The Imperial Palace
by Knis
Summary: Being dragged into a strip club on Valentine's day was not Sanada's idea of a productive evening. Multiple Pairings; Alpha, Perfect, Platinum, Royal. Strip Club AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Because it is Valentine's day, I allowed myself some time to write a very self-indulgent story. That's my excuse for being totally unoriginal and cliché today. :D**

**Title: The Imperial Palace**

**Setting: Strip Club AU, where everyone is older and of legal age.**

**Rating: M-rated, in case the strip club part didn't give it away yet.**

**Reason: Because I can.**

**Pairing: Alpha Pair, hints of Platinum Pair, some Yanagi and special guest appearances from a few others.**

**Warnings: Uncreative content, possible OOC-ness, stripper!Yukimura, smut somewhere in there… that should be about it.**

**Disclaimer: Konomi-sensei owns the characters and their asses.**

**~o~o~o~**

* * *

><p>"No."<p>

"Come on, Sanada!"

"I absolutely refuse."

"We're single men on Valentine's day. What else is there to do?"

Sanada glared at Niou. The trickster's bleached white hair stuck out almost fluorescently in the dark evening air as he smirked, trying to drag Sanada forward. Unfortunately, the capped man wasn't budging. Sanada then turned his head and shot the exact same look at the person on his other side; his best friend Yanagi.

"Valentine's day or not, I don't see why we have to come to such a place." said Sanada. He had never celebrated Valentine's Day in his life and he wasn't about to start now… especially not in this type of place.

Sanada looked up at the building before him, hearing the loud thump of music resounding from within and seeing a flashing sign that announced the place's name to be _The Imperial Palace_ in bright neon purple that hurt his eyes.

"It's just like a regular club, Genichirou. Nothing to worry about." said Yanagi.

"T-This is not a regular club! It's a… it's a…"

"A strip club." finished Niou with a grin. He grabbed Sanada's arm once more and Yanagi grabbed the other, pushing Sanada's larger figure forward. Sanada struggled, his feet remaining firmly planted on the ground in resistance.

"Geez, Sanada, stop being such a party pooper. It won't be that bad. You might even meet a nice _girl_." said Niou, attempting to sound encouraging.

"This is a strip club in a street well-known for having an abundant amount of gay bars. I don't think there will be nice girls here." Sanada pointed out.

Niou smirked. "Guy, girl, same thing. Girls come here just as much as guys. The trick is to find a hot dude and make-out with him. The girls are all over that. If you're lucky, the night will end in a threesome."

Sanada groaned, not in the mood for hearing about the adventures of Niou, the flaming bisexual.

"We'll even pay a stripper to come dance with you!" said Niou gleefully.

"No!" shouted Sanada. God forbid some half-naked man would show up and start grinding against him. Sanada had tried dancing at a club only once in his life and it had ended quickly when some older man touched his butt. Sanada had never slapped someone so hard in his life.

Knowing he would be getting nowhere with this, Sanada sighed, surrendering himself by letting his friends drag him through the building's entrance. At least he was wearing very inconspicuous grey pants and a black shirt. Perhaps he could just find a nice dark corner and sit there pretending to be invisible for the rest of the night.

The inside of the edifice was dim but colourful beams of light swayed back and forth from stage lights stuck to the ceiling. The place was quite large, much larger than it had seemed from the outside. The area along the left wall held regular banquets and tables like the kind one would see at any restaurant. Groups of people were seated around the tables, drinking and laughing loudly. The area on the right side held a bar where a bartender assisted to the clientele seated along the counter, filling orders quickly and efficiently.

Then there was a spacious central dance floor, the place that held the most people. It was a sea of bodies swaying with the rhythm of the music. There was a stage too, as was mandatory to any strip club. This particular stage lit up, constantly changing colors from red to blue and more. A lone metal pole stood in the stage's middle, unoccupied for the moment.

Then Sanada's eyes found the last missing piece that made a strip club what it was: the strippers.

These performers were quite easy to spot as they were all handsome young men without any clothes covering their upper bodies and tight leather for pants; an attire that left little to the imagination. Sanada even spotted a figure walking along the stage, one that was fully bare except for tight-fitting briefs. Besides the one stripper on stage, the others were all spread out along the dance floor, chatting with clients and dancing with them, grabbing tips when they came their way. Sanada tugged down his trusty black cap, tearing his eyes away from the dance floor and thanking the heavens that this wasn't one of those fully nude stripping bars.

There was a surprisingly large amount of girls, as Niou had said. The girls were all squealing in high pitched voices when they saw two guys dancing together. Sanada shook his head, not seeing why ladies would come to a gay strip club just to see two guys together. It made no sense to him.

Sanada found one empty stool at the bar, claiming the seat as his own and immediately working on ignoring everything that was around him. His friends didn't follow. Yanagi had vanished in the crowd on the dance floor while Niou immediately went to work, cornering a rather stiff and plain-looking man in a business suit and glasses. The man Niou was after really didn't look like he belonged in such a place, judging by his straight and perfect posture, his neatly ironed suit and well-combed brown hair. But despite appearances, the businessman nodded to Niou and began a conversation, one that was too far away for Sanada to hear.

The music was way too loud for Sanada's liking. It gave him a headache, especially with all these lights flashing around. He couldn't even hear himself think.

"What can I get you, sir?" said a voice.

Sanada unburied his face from his hands, catching the eyes of a bartender with messy brown hair and glasses.

"Do you have anything non-alcoholic?" asked Sanada.

Bartenders usually laughed whenever Sanada asked this question, but the one before him now showed no reaction behind his spectacles, merely nodding and grabbing a can from under the counter, placing it in front of Sanada.

"Ponta is all we have." said the bartender.

Sanada nodded. "It's fine. Thanks." he said, vaguely wondering who on earth would actually mix grape Ponta and alcohol together. The very idea was repulsing.

Sanada cracked the can open with one hand, sipping it lightly as his eyes travelled around, wandering aimlessly around the dusky club. His gaze paused at the stage, where two strippers were rubbing their hips together, giving a strip tease by slowly pulling down their pants while receiving cat calls from the audience. Sanada looked away, not quite seeing the appeal.

"So what brings you here tonight?" came a voice from Sanada's left, thick with a Kansai dialect. Sanada looked up, a dark aura emitting from him as he found the owner of that accented drawl. A man with dark blue hair winked up at Sanada from behind round lenses, holding up his glass. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Don't even try." growled Sanada.

"Ouch, you're no fun." said the navy-haired man, looking amused nonetheless. He leaned closer from his seat. "You seem tense. Maybe a drink's just what you need in order to loosen up. Or perhaps you'd prefer to relax in some other way?" His tone was far too suggestive.

Sanada shot the man the deadliest glare he could muster before deciding to take his leave, grabbing his can of Ponta and making his way out of his stool without a second glance. God, he knew this had been a bad idea. He shouldn't have let Niou and Yanagi drag him in here.

Sanada slowly made his way to the exit, wondering if he could make his escape without anyone noticing. But then Niou showed up next to him, dragging his latest conquest by the hand and quelling Sanada's escape plan instantly.

"Don't even think of leaving, Sanada." said Niou, shouting it above the loud beat of music and standing between Sanada and the way out. "The party's just getting started. Go have a bit of fun!"

Sanada felt like his frown was soon going to be permanently etched onto his face. His hand tingled with the urge to just backhand Niou across the face and leave.

"By the way, this here is Yagyuu." said Niou, pointing to the businessman with whom he was joined at the hand with.

The man in the business suit came forward and nodded his head to Sanada.

"Nice to meet you." said Yagyuu politely, extending out his unoccupied hand for a greeting. Sanada shook the hand briefly, his mind filled with nothing but plans about how he could make his escape without his friends noticing.

"Come, that table over there's free." said Niou, pointing to the left. "Yagyuu, I'll pay you a drink. And you better come too, Sanada, or else I will paint your new couch and curtains bright pink."

Niou proceeded to drag Yagyuu to a small table nearby. Sanada sighed, following them. It was never a good idea to take Niou's threats lightly. The trickster was very likely to remain true to his word and Sanada did not feel like buying a new couch.

Maybe things wouldn't be too bad now, thought Sanada, taking a chair on the opposite side of Niou and Yagyuu. The man with the Kansai dialect who had flirted with him was still at the bar and Niou was too distracted with his latest catch to pay much attention to Sanada. Hopefully it meant Sanada still had a chance at being invisible for the next few hours until it was time to leave.

And then Sanada had the unpleasant experience of having to sit awkwardly at the table while Niou decided that making out with Yagyuu right then and there was a great idea.

Sanada exhaled in exasperation. Watching two people sitting in front of him and sucking each other's tongue was really not what Sanada wanted to see. Plus some girls had begun gathering around them now, squealing in shrill voices and taking pictures with their cellphones.

He will never understand girls, thought Sanada, feeling his headache gaining strength. His sipped his Ponta again, reattempting his invisibility plan by sinking into his chair.

Yanagi decided to make his reappearance at that moment. The data man's hair was dishevelled and his clothes ripped in some place. Apparently the dance floor was a dangerous place.

"Heyyy, where have you been, my data man?" asked Niou, pulling away from Yagyuu for a second.

"Ah, I was mingling." said Yanagi, claiming his own seat beside Yagyuu. "And I noticed Sanada was brooding over here quite a bit."

"I told you I didn't want to come here." said Sanada in his defence.

"That's why I took the liberty of going out and finding a nice employee to come keep you company. He should be here soon." finished Yanagi.

Sanada choked on his juice, coughing hysterically. "You went out and got me a _stripper_?" yelled Sanada as if Yanagi had just lost his mind. Niou snickered at Sanada's face, the sound muffled when Yagyuu captured the trickster's lips in another searing kiss.

Yanagi attempted to straighten up his hair and shirt. "I believe the correct term is an _erotic dancer_-"

"I don't care! So back down there and cancel it!" shouted Sanada, visibly flustered.

"Don't worry, Genichirou. You are making a big deal of nothing. You look so lonely and you might have up to 43% more fun if you just let your inhibitions go for-"

"_Do you want me to slap you?"_ Sanada demanded, raising his hand threateningly.

"Oh dear, has there been a misunderstanding?" said a gentle and unfamiliar voice from behind Sanada.

Sanada froze. Oh Great. The stripper guy was already here. Just fantastic, thought Sanada, glaring accusingly at his friend. Yanagi looked up past Sanada's head.

"Ah, good, you're here. Don't worry, everything is fine. Genichirou here is just being stubborn." said Yanagi, smiling apologetically.

Sanada growled. It looks like Yanagi couldn't be counted on today. The data man wasn't planning on cancelling this at all. Fine then. Sanada didn't care. He'll just have to tell off the performer himself.

Sanada turned around with the full intention of telling the stripper that his services weren't needed when his words caught in his throat.

The moment Sanada's eyes caught sight of the person behind him, all of his thoughts were wiped clear from his mind. The young man behind him was fully clothed, unlike the other dancers, although his pants were the same leather material and his shirt was a delicate see-through color. But the clothes were not what made Sanada stop and gap. Looking up at the young man's face, Sanada couldn't help but think that this person was possibly the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

The dancer had delicate pale skin and large gorgeous cerulean eyes that gave him an almost ethereal appearance. His hair went just a little past his chin and it was of a dark wavy texture, a veil to his rounded face. When the lights hit the young man's head, it showed that his hair was actually a dark blue hue, matching his eyes.

Sanada swallowed thickly, forgetting what he had been about to say. Stripper or not, Sanada couldn't help but undergo the sensation of being instantly smitten by this young man. The dancer smiled angelically at him and Sanada felt a definite warmth run along his cheeks.

"Stay here with him please, Yukimura-san." said Yanagi, pointing to Sanada. "_Sanada-kun_ is rather mopey and can use cheering up."

"Of course." said the navy-haired young man. Yukimura, thought Sanada, hearing the name of the stripper. The name was oddly fitting and Sanada repeated it in his mind, hoping it wasn't a pseudo. Yukimura pulled up the last chair and sat down right next to Sanada, close enough so that their knees brushed. Sanada felt his breath catch.

Niou was still kissing Yagyuu, too busy to pay Sanada any attention. Yanagi sipped at his own drink, winking at Sanada before turning his chair around in a small gesture of privacy.

"So, Sanada-san, was it?" said Yukimura, smiling pleasantly.

"Y-Yes." said Sanada, ashamed to hear the nervous stutter in his throat.

"My name is Yukimura. It's a pleasure to meet you." said Yukimura.

Sanada's mind whirled. What was he supposed to do in this situation? Should he order Yukimura a drink? He didn't know if strippers were allowed to drink on the job, but that didn't mean Sanada couldn't chance it.

"Do you… want something to drink?" Sanada asked.

"Mm, no thank you. I'm afraid I'm not a huge fan of alcohol." said Yukimura. "But thank you for offering."

Sanada raised his can of Ponta. "Cheers to that then." he said, taking a sip. Yukimura laughed lightly and Sanada marvelled at the delightful sound, feeling like he had just accomplished something great by the simple act of making this stunning young man laugh.

Sanada then sighed, knowing he couldn't really fool himself into thinking that someone as pretty as Yukimura would actually enjoy being around someone awkward like him. He tugged down at his cap, choosing to face the harsh reality head-on before he become too besotted.

"Renji paid you to stay here, right?" asked Sanada, frowning down at his hands.

"He did." said Yukimura.

"Ah…" Sanada felt like it was a stab to his stomach. Of course Yukimura wouldn't be here otherwise. "It's fine you know… if you don't want to be here. The least I want to do is force you to stay here with some depressing stranger."

Yukimura looked surprised. "That's the first time a customer has told me that, Sanada-san. Either you are as depressive and mopey as your friend mentioned… or perhaps you just really wish to be rid of me." He showed his teeth in a feral smile. "So which is it?"

"N-No!" Sanada said quickly. Getting rid of Yukimura was the last thing Sanada wanted to do. "That's not it at all, Yukimura-san. I'm just… i-it just seems unfair to force you to stay here if you don't want to…"

"Well, it is my job to make customers feel welcome here." said Yukimura. He leaned forward, elbow on the table and regarding Sanada in a curious manner. "I wouldn't be doing my job professionally if I simply left now."

Sanada couldn't deny that he felt thrilled at Yukimura's answer, knowing the dancer wasn't going to leave him so soon. "Hn. It makes sense." said Sanada, not knowing what else to say

"And I can assure you, Sanada-san, that you aren't depressing at all from what I've seen." Yukimura added.

Actually, Sanada was rather peculiar, thought Yukimura, observing the nervous twitch and movements the taller male executed. Yukimura couldn't deny that Sanada was quite handsome, with a definite air of masculinity hovering around him. But despite that, Sanada did not seem confident nor comfortable in such a place.

"Tell me, why don't you like night clubs?" asked Yukimura lightly. He was usually required to keep a casual conversation going unless they were dancing, but this time the question was laced with Yukimura's own curiosity.

Sanada shrugged. "There's a lot of things I don't like. The music is too loud, there's always some loud drunks around that cause trouble, I don't like dancing and…" Sanada pondered, not quite knowing how to put it into proper words. "I don't know, it just feels like you are constantly being watched. I'm simply not at ease in these types of crowds."

"Hmm… well I would hardly be surprised if others were watching you." said Yukimura. "You are quite nice to look at."

Sanada turned his head away, unsure of how to respond to that. Luckily the room was dim, hiding the reddening in his cheeks. He had been flirted on by others in the past, such as the creep with the Kansai accent from the bar, but never had someone as beautiful and exquisite as Yukimura complimented him in such a way.

"T-Thank you?" said Sanada, managing to make it sound more like a question. "You are… you too… you're nice to look at…" Sanada added, sounding lame and unconvincing to his own ears.

Yukimura's smile widened at the awkward response. "I'm flattered." he purred. "You mentioned you didn't enjoy dancing either. Why the aversion to it? You might enjoy clubs a bit more if you did dance."

"It's not that I detest it... I'm simply not much of a dancer." admitted Sanada.

"Is that so?" said Yukimura. "That isn't too bad. At least you are admitting to having a dance incompetence. There are many who come in here every night, _thinking_ they dance very well but end up looking utterly ridiculous doing so; especially those who've had too much to drink."

Sanada nodded, a tiny smile lifting the corner of his lips. "Yes, I would think drunks wouldn't have the greatest balance on the dance floor."

"Exactly! Just last week, an old man was so drunk that he spilled his drink all over me while he was dancing." Yukimura said, chuckling silently as he thought back, remembering how irritated he had been at the time.

"I hope he spilled a decent drink on you." said Sanada.

Yukimura shook his head. "No such luck. Whatever he spilled on me made me stink of whiskey and rum for the rest of my shift." Yukimura wrinkled his nose when he remembered. It was funny looking back at it now though, plus it made for an execellent story. Sanada laughed not-so-quietly, as if the thought of Yukimura getting drenched in heavy alcohol was the funniest thing he had ever heard,

"Ah, the perils of the dance floor." said Sanada, frame shaking with laughter.

"Indeed." said Yukimura. Those blue eyes were twinkling with amusement, attention fully focused on only Sanada. "Ah, so you can smile, Sanada-san." he said.

Sanada coughed, pulling down on the rim of his cap. "Everyone can smile." he said.

"Yes, but it's still a relief. When I first heard you screaming at your friend earlier, I was afraid you were the angry and grouchy type." said Yukimura. "I'm happy to know my assumption was incorrect."

Yukimura's hand went to Sanada's knee, the one that was touching Yukimura's own leg. The supple fingers caressed Sanada's clothed kneecap, moving up and lightly squeezing his thigh. Sanada sucked in a breath.

"About your inability to dance... I am not a master myself, but perhaps I can teach you a few moves?" said Yukimura through half-lidded eyes, his smile upturned suggestively.

Sanada swallowed thickly, sensing a sudden seriousness emitting from Yukimura, heating up the leg where Yukimura was touching him. "P-Perhaps another time." said Sanada. He didn't want to make a fool of himself just yet. Yukimura pursed his lips and Sanada took the chance to look away, focusing on the stage as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

A new song started, an upbeat pounding that rocked the building. A fresh dancer stepped up on stage, ready to start a new routine and stripping himself of his pants in one fluid move. Sanada hadn't been paying attention to the performers before, but the one on stage now made him do a double-take. The stripper on the stage had looked like a woman from behind, but now he was circling the center pole, showing off what was definitely a male chest and very shapely legs, running his hands along the metal rod seductively. The stripper moved with confidence, pushing back his honey-brown hair.

"I love this song." said Yukimura, swaying in his seat to the beat. He pointed to the dancer on stage. "This song is Fuji's specialty. Watch, he has the best moves in the whole club."

Sanada's eyes didn't leave the fluid brown-haired young man on the stage, the one Yukimura had named Fuji. Fuji was shorter and slighter than the other strippers, but his every move was done with practiced ease, almost as if he were gliding along the stage. Sanada was hypnotized in the way the brunette moved. When the tempo of the music sped up, Fuji lifted himself up easily, his milky legs surrounding the pole and keeping him up effortlessly as he twirled. Every arch and every twist of Fuji's body was undeniably sexy and it was impossible to not feel attracted to the performance.

"Ah, impressive." agreed Sanada. He had never seen such a performance before, but surely this Fuji must be amongst the best. The flexibility and accuracy needed for it was flawless.

Sanada looked back, shaking his head to regain his senses. As attractive as Fuji's moves were, Sanada couldn't help but wonder if Yukimura also danced like that on some nights. A part of him longed to see Yukimura up there, back arched, hips swaying in a dizzying rhythm and thighs bucking against the metal pole. But in Sanada's imagination, Yukimura was dancing just for him; there was no other audience to see Yukimura's private show.

The capped male's eyes were drawn back to the beauty next to him, his gaze running down the line of Yukimura's sensuous body, looking down at the see-through shirt Yukimura wore. Sanada had no trouble seeing the slim waist and lean abdomen that lay beneath it. He wondered why Yukimura was the only one still wearing it; all the other dancers were topless.

"I just started my shift so no one has asked me to take it off yet." said Yukimura, catching Sanada staring and practically reading his mind.

Sanada blinked, surprised for a moment at Yukimura's quick wit. "So you take off your clothes the moment someone asks you to?" he asked

"Only if that person is a client and pays for it." said Yukimura. "It is my job after all."

Sanada bit his tongue. Right. It was his job. Sanada knew he had no right to object to that, especially seeing that Yukimura was practically a stranger to him.

"Of course, I don't take everything off. The shirts come off easily but only the head dancers, the ones who have a dance routine on stage, take off their pants. We don't strip down more than that." said Yukimura.

Fuji's performance ended. The audience clapped and cheered, yelling for an encore. Sanada and Yukimura also clapped politely until Fuji had retreated backstage.

Sanada was internally struggling, trying hard not to think about Yukimura without clothes... not a single material cloaking his perfect body. The question from before arose in Sanada's mind and it slipped out of his lips before he could stop it. "Do you have a dance routine too, Yukimura-kun?"

Sanada immediately regretted asking. It was none of his business if Yukimura pranced around the stage practically naked on other nights. Sanada wanted to slap himself for asking.

Luckily, Yukimura seemed to think nothing of it, his tone teasing. "Why? Do you want to see me dancing up there?"

"N-Not really. I mean, I'm sure you would be good but… I mean… y-you can just do whatever you want." said Sanada, stuttering and feeling his entire face heating up, all the way to the tips of his ears.

Yukimura chuckled lightly. "Don't worry, Sanada-san. I haven't been here long enough to have my own dance routine yet. I mostly mingle with the clients on the dance floor and get tips from dancing with them. Sometimes they will pay extra for more, but that's all."

Sanada sipped at his Ponta calmly, swallowing very slowly.

"I see…" he said as serenely as he could even if he was blazing on the inside. "What do you mean by paying extra for _more_?"

Yukimura's answer was a mocking smile. "I mean, I am still an entertainer in a strip club. If the client wants something, as long as it is a reasonable request and the proper amount of money is paid, then I am capable of putting in a little additional effort."

"What additional effort?" growled Sanada, wanting Yukimura to get straight to the point without beating around the bush. He wasn't feeling particularly patient now and Yukimura's teasing was not helping.

Yukimura's gaze was challenging, looking straight back into Sanada's eyes. "Why don't you find out for yourself?"

Sanada felt like he needed a real drink now. He realized how awful he must be sounding to be demanding answers in such an impatient tone. Sanada leaned back in his chair, biting his tongue to stop himself from saying something he would later regret.

Yukimura let out that infuriating chuckle once more, his fingers playing with the rim of Sanada's Ponta can. Sanada looked down at it idly, trying desperately to make himself see reason. Really, who was he to get jealous and possessive of someone he had just met? This whole thing was absurd.

"Don't frown so much, Sanada-san. You'll get wrinkles." said Yukimura.

"I wouldn't have to frown if you weren't being so difficult and secretive." countered Sanada, crossing his arms.

"Oh, but it's no fun otherwise." said Yukimura. Sanada's face was so close to a pout that Yukimura couldn't help but find it rather cute. "Besides, it's not much of a secret. It's common sense that customers in a strip club can pay extra to have a striptease or even a lap dance."

The reveal made Sanada exhale in relief.

"Ah…" Sanada said. Thank goodness. His mind had been imagining far worst things. Sanada shook his head. No... just because Yukimura's profession was that of an erotic dancer didn't mean he was the type who slept with anyone. Sanada mentally slapped himself for having such thoughts.

Yukimura observed Sanada in the same curious way as before, as if pondering something. Then suddenly, Yukimura stood up. "Would you like a demonstration?" the bluenette asked, his tone low and husky.

Sanada was snapped out of his thoughts, wondering if he had heard correctly. He held his breath for a second, trying to wrap his mind around what Yukimura was hinting at.

"I-I don't have money on me." said Sanada.

"It's my treat." replied Yukimura. He shifted, standing behind Sanada's chair, his hands finding Sanada's shoulders, stroking and squeezing invitingly. Yukimura couldn't resist. Sanada may have the appearance of a large muscular type of guy, but he just seemed so innocent. Besides, it wasn't everyday that Yukimura was assigned to a client who sat down and did nothing but talk to him as if he were a real human being, not an employee or an inferior person. Yukimura lowered his mouth close to Sanada's ear, breathing against it and feeling Sanada shiver in response. "What do you say, _Sanada-san_?"

Sanada's mouth was dry. "Do you do this to all your clients or is this one of your generous days?" he asked.

"Hmm…" Yukimura pondered it for a second. He indicated for Sanada to push his chair back so that he could step between the seated man and the table. "Neither. I've simply met a kind man who caught my attention." Yukimura's hand came forward, lightly brushing Sanada's cheek before retreating. Sanada heard the squeals of girls from around him but he honestly did not care right now. His whole body felt hot, enflamed by Yukimura's touch.

Yukimura smirked down at him, taking Sanada's silence as an affirmative. Yukimura stole Sanada's Ponta and drained the rest of the juice in a long gulp, licking at his lips. He then grabbed the edge of his shirt and pulled it over his head, dumping it on his now abandoned chair. Sanada felt his brain stop functioning at that point. The shirt hadn't really hidden anything, but seeing the smooth torso just inches away as Yukimura stretched his arms up was enough to make Sanada's eyes grow wide.

Yukimura turned around, lowering himself slowly until he was sitting on Sanada's lap, his back to that broad chest. Sanada was assaulted with the smell of lavender, coming from Yukimura's soft-looking hair. The capped male didn't know what to do. As much as Sanada was longing to run his palms along Yukimura's bare sides and mar that silky white neck with eager lips, Sanada settled with keeping his body perfectly still and his hands to his sides. He wouldn't want to chase the bluenette away, not now that Yukimura was right here, a pleasing weight on his lap and a dream come true. Sanada kept his self-control in check, waiting to see what Yukimura would do.

His answer came in the form of Yukimura pressing his hips down, grinding down against the front of Sanada's crotch. Sanada was surprised, the sharp spike of sensation rushing through him, escaping in the form of a gasp. Thankfully the noise was swallowed up by the loud music. The bluenette grinned deviously, repeating the motion, slower, spreading Sanada's legs for more contact to his inner thighs.

"_Ngnn!"_ Sanada gasped, feeling more lost than ever now against the onslaught of pleasure. His heartbeat raced in time to the quick beat of the music. Sanada licked his lips, a keen moan on his lips as Yukimura continuously grated their thighs together. One of Yukimura's arms rushed up, angling around to clutch behind Sanada's neck for leverage. "Oh... Yukimura... _ahhh_."

Sanada looked down. Yukimura's ass looked so perfectly rounded in those tight pants, so mesmerizing. It didn't take long before Sanada's pants were feeling tight. If Yukimura noticed the distinctive hardness between Sanada's legs, he said nothing about it, continuing his pace uninterrupted.

Sanada's thighs trembled. He found his hips drawing upwards as well, meeting Yukimura's body in a desperate attempt at receiving more friction. His instinct for faster, harder, _more_ drove him forward, his hands clutching Yukimura's waist to secure him as their movements turned even more frantic. Yukimura's sweet bare skin was right there. Sanada's thumb flitted along the edge of Yukimura's pants, floating between perfect translucent skin and the black leather. Yukimura's head turned to the side for a second, giving Sanada a coy smile.

The dancer paused for a second and Sanada groaned, thinking it was over already, that he would be stuck with this lingering desire and smouldering heat in the pit of his stomach. Instead, Yukimura stood up, flashing Sanada the full-view of the bluenette's back and that enthralling behind. Sanada swallowed thickly, his eyes no longer having the will to look away.

Yukimura turned back, facing him. He leaned forward just slightly. His small hand massaged Sanada's knee, an almost comforting gesture amidst the flare of craving. Yukimura's hand proceeded inward, crawling closer and closer, lingering on his inner thigh for what felt like an eternity. Then, those fingers dipped forward, nails scratching the growing bulge and Sanada had to bite his lips to keep from crying out.

"Good?" asked Yukimura.

Sanada nodded helplessly, not trusting his voice. He looked into Yukimura's eyes, trying to convey that he desperately needed more, that it couldn't just end like this.

That was why he nearly breathed out in relief when Yukimura's knees straddled him again, this time facing each other. Sanada's hands could no longer stay still. He wrapped them around Yukimura, his rough fingers running along Yukimura's silken back, sliding down to the tight leather and squeezing firmly.

Yukimura voiced no complains. The bluenette's skin appeared to have taken on a pink tinge, his eyes glazed over. Yukimura's hands planted themselves on both of Sanada's shoulder for leverage. And then, right when Sanada felt that nothing could be better, Yukimura _moved_.

The tempo increased to a merciless pace, always faster until they were humping each other in earnest like two desperate teenagers who had just discovered masturbation. Sanada heard Yukimura's letting out little gasps against his ear and Sanada realized at that moment that he wasn't going to last, and worse; he was still in public.

Sanada jerked. "Wait, ngh! Yukimura- s-stop, I-I'm-"

Sanada didn't say it on time. One second Yukimura's hips were frantically pushing up against his and the next second, all of Sanada's muscles were strung tight as he shuddered and went limp in the chair, breathing deeply in an attempt to regain his senses. Yukimura paused, his brain clicking into place what had happened.

Yukimura's mouth installed itself close to Sanada's ear once more. "Sanada-san, did you just…?"

Sanada blushed profusely, mortified that he had just come in his own pants from a simple round of grinding. He nodded. "S-Sorry…" he said. God, this was so embarrassing. Now he became aware of the attention they had amassed. Several girls were now watching them more than they were watching Niou, hooting with glee. Sanada felt a bead of sweat run down his neck. Niou was never going to let him live this down if he found out.

Looking down, Sanada could see a dark wet spot on the front of his grey pants. Damn… There was no way he could hide it. Niou would see it… no, not just Niou; everyone would see it, Sanada realized in dismay. The light-headed feeling of his orgasm was still humming through his body, mixing with Sanada's now panicked state.

Yukimura looked noticing the stain as well. "It's alright, Sanada-san." he whispered. "It was just unexpected. But… I don't think walking around with those pants is a safe bet."

"Ah…" agreed Sanada. At least Yukimura was being sensitive to his dilemma and not leaving him alone to face the embarrassment. Actually, it was thanks to Yukimura still situated above his hips that Sanada was able to hide it.

"I can get you new pants." said Yukimura. He whispered secretly, as if they were plotting a secret mission. "The back door is in the far corner. If we walk carefully with me in front to cover you, then no one will have to know."

Sanada nodded, not having much other choice in the matter. He followed Yukimura's lead, carefully standing up with their hips still close together. They walked away, Sanada nearly stumbling over Yukimura's feet a few times because of their close proximity. When Niou looked up and saw the sight of Yukimura dragging Sanada into the backroom, he wolf-whistled and shouted "Way to go, Sanada! You da man!", making Sanada's face flame in yet more embarrassment.

Sanada was all too relieved when they reached the back door. He sprinted in the darkness and Yukimura closed the door behind them, blocking out a lot of music and making Sanada's ears ring.

Sanada let out a breath of relief. "Thank you. You're a lifesaver." he said.

Yukimura waved it off. "It's partly my fault that you soiled your pants. I couldn't just leave you there. Don't worry. I don't think anyone noticed."

"I certainly hope not." said Sanada, looking down at his dirty pants. His crotch area felt really sticky and gross now. He's going to owe Yukimura big time after this.

"Come with me." said Yukimura, grabbing Sanada's hand and dragging him down the hallway that was for staff only. The place was very dark with no lights being on to illuminate their path, but Yukimura knew where he was going. Yukimura shivered lightly, his torso bare to the chilly air. Sanada was lucky because they ran into no other staff members on the way.

The hall was empty, holding nothing but several wooden doors on both sides. They stopped at Room 03, one that had Yukimura's name among the three listed. Sanada looked at the kanji of Yukimura's name, seeing that the dancer's first name was Seiichi.

Yukimura opened the door to his dressing room, holding it so that Sanada could walk in first.

"You know, this is the first time I've actually brought a client back to my dressing room." said Yukimura with a giggle. He closed the door behind him, hoping his co-worker who shared the dressing room wouldn't be coming back for a while. "It feels so risqué, doesn't it?"

"I guess." said Sanada, shifting uneasily. He looked around the room. It wasn't big. There was a huge vanity on one side, complete with an enormous mirror and lights. Lotions and brushes were layered on the table in a messy array. A small red couch was up against the wall. There were also three large wooden wardrobes, one for each occupant, Sanada assumed. It was quite cramped, every corner taken up by something and clothes hung haphazardly on top of each piece of furniture.

"I share this dressing room with two others." said Yukimura. "Shiraishi isn't working today and Fuji's shift doesn't end for another while, so we shouldn't have to worry about them coming in." Sanada grunted, standing there awkwardly as Yukimura opened one of the wardrobes and shifted through the clothes.

"I'm sure Shiraishi won't mind if you borrow one of his pants." said Yukimura. Shiraishi was the tallest of the room's three occupants, so his pants had the greatest chance of fitting Sanada.

"Looks like I'll owe it to him too." grumbled Sanada.

Yukimura laughed, pulling a few pairs of pants from the first wardrobe. "He doesn't have to know. He rarely ever wears half of these pants." Yukimura put down the clothing articles he found. Luckily Shiraishi was a health freak and had quite a few loose sweatpants for when he exercised.

Sanada looked down at the pants, happy to note that none of them were tight leather. They all looked a bit too small, but Sanada couldn't afford to be picky now.

Sanada picked up the loosest pair he found and began unbuttoning his own pants.

Yukimura watched, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Hmm… I suppose it will seem odd for you to walk out with a new pair of pants. What will be your explanation?"

Sanada froze. Crap. Yanagi would notice the change for sure. Sanada had to think of an excuse or else the others will find out what had really happened.

"W-What should I say?" said Sanada.

Yukimura hummed, deep in thought. He approached Sanada, resting his hand lightly on Sanada's half-exposed hip. Sanada held his breath.

"Well, since your friends are most likely to think that I dragged you back to my dressing room in order to have sex with you… I suppose you can just say you lost your pants as we were frantically clawing at each other in a desperate attempt to undress." said Yukimura matter-of-factly.

There was no way his blush could get any redder, thought Sanada. "No way." he said firmly.

Yukimura rose an eyebrow, his hand retreating. "You can think of a better excuse?"

"No but… I'm not good at lying. Renji will know for sure. And Niou too… that idiot will blackmail me for the rest of my life if he finds out." said Sanada. "I can't lie about this… especially since I've never really… done it." He looked away in embarrassment at what he had just admitted.

Yukimura sounded surprised to say the least. "You've never slept with anyone before?"

Sanada shook his head.

"But… you're so handsome. Don't tell me no one has ever been interested in you." said Yukimura. What a waste. And Sanada seemed so kind-natured, unlike the arrogant musclemen that often frequented the place.

"No… there have been offers." said Sanada slowly. "I've just never really been interested in anyone before."

"Ah, so no one has caught your eye." said Yukimura. "That's hard to believe, Sanada-san. Surely there must have been one person you liked. Perhaps you have a childhood crush you never got over or an unrequited love?"

"That's not-"

"You can tell me. It's the least you can do after I saved you from embarrassment. You _owe_ me." said Yukimura, reminding the taller man.

Sanada swallowed heavily, feeling like a trapped mouse in the hands of a small cat. "I wasn't interested in anyone." Sanada repeated. He then hesitated before adding, "But… you are very… nice Yukimura-san."

Sanada never thought he would fall for a stripper for all people, but he had definitely been hypnotized by Yukimura's beauty the moment he had laid eyes on him. Yukimura seemed so well-grounded and kind even if he did have a sharp wicked streak.

Yukimura blinked. "Oh... I'm flattered, Sanada-san." said Yukimura, unable to deny how happy it made him to hear that. At that moment, Yukimura decided that it really would be far too much of a waste to let Sanada go just like that. And really, with the way Sanada was talking, the capped man was practically asking to be taken in.

Yukimura's casual upturn of lips hid his secret intention, one that was ready to tempt Sanada just enough to get the desired result.

The bluenette was suddenly very close to Sanada, his fingers leaning in and toying with the edge of Sanada's briefs.

"Y-Yukimura-san?" said Sanada, jumping at the light touch.

"Shh." Yukimura said, his eyes glossy. A single digit went up, tracing Sanada's lower lip tentatively. "Let me." Sanada's pants were already loose and low on his hips. It took no effort for Yukimura to shimmy them down. He was pleased to find that Sanada offered no resistance.

Yukimura smiled against the heat of Sanada's neck, pressing his body flush against the taller male. His hands rubbed circles along Sanada's chest, continuing to move downward. Sanada's chest felt firm and well-toned from what Yukimura could feel through the black material of the shirt.

"I had quite a pleasant time with you today, Sanada-san." whispered Yukimura.

Sanada was well-aware of the returning heat in his pants. He backed up, away from Yukimura hands. No, Yukimura couldn't see him like this. He would think that Sanada had no self-control to be getting hard again from such light touches.

But Yukimura would have none of it. He continued to approach, letting Sanada back away until his back was against the door. Then Yukimura pinned him there, one knee spreading Sanada's legs open. Sanada's face was that of a lost puppy, unsure of what to do even if his skin was flushed and the front of his briefs were straining.

Sanada obviously worked out quite a bit, thought Yukimura as his hands found muscular inner thighs, massaging languidly and watching as Sanada closed his eyes, his breath starting to come in quick pants. Yukimura teased him, the delicate touches roaming hips and exploring thighs, but never touching the growing bulge.

When Yukimura traced the outline of the hardness between Sanada's thighs, Sanada let out a pitiful-sounding whimper.

"I'm sorry." gasped Sanada.

Yukimura paused, raising an eyebrow. "What for?"

"F-For… this." said Sanada, looking down between his legs, ashamed that he wasn't able to keep his desire in check. He hoped Yukimura didn't think he was disgusting.

Yukimura laughed, slightly muffling the sound against Sanada's throat, planting light kisses along the tanned skin. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Sanada-san." he muttered.

"B-But- Ah!" Sanada gasped when Yukimura finally pressed the palm of his hand against the heat, pressing his thumb down where he felt the tip was, on an area that was already wet from earlier, soaking through the material. Sanada groaned, Yukimura's name a chant of his lips.

So responsive, thought Yukimura, sucking on a patch of skin at the base of Sanada's throat. He dipped his hand inside the underwear's material, giving Sanada one long stroke. Sanada moaned, biting his lips and failing to trap the noise in his throat. Sanada was no longer looking uncertain, his eyes half-lidded and needy. Instead, he was now pressing up for more.

"Good?" asked Yukimura, nuzzling his head into Sanada's neck.

Sanada looked overwhelmed, nearly unable to respond properly. "Yes." he whispered. He gasped when Yukimura went further, massaging the sensitive skin of his balls, stroking them idly before moving all the way back up again. "_Yes_." He moaned again, mouth open as he heaved air in thick gulps.

"Ah…" answered Yukimura, breathy. Sanada's neck was layered with lovebites. Yukimura decided it would be better to move things along; Sanada wouldn't last long at this rate.

He gave Sanada's throat a final nip before pulling his hand back, wet with the dripping pre-come. Sanada groaned, his hips thrusting into nothing, feeling empty and cold. Yukimura flashed him a smile before dropping down on his knees, between Sanada's trembling thighs.

"Yu-Yukimura, y-you don't-" Sanada began, eyes wide with the sight of Yukimura pulling the briefs down to Sanada's knees, showing his thick erection standing at full attention, white droplets oozing down from the tip.

Yukimura was aware of the distinctive hardness trapped in his own leather pants, tight and uncomfortable. But he pushed it out of his mind. His own desire could wait until another time. Right now, Yukimura was so close to capturing Sanada for good.

He brought his mouth forward, slightly opened and breathing hot air onto Sanada's cock.

"Ngh... _Yukimura!"_ said Sanada, looking down between his legs and seeing those pink lips so close to his throbbing length. Only a small movement would close the distance.

Yukimura chuckled. "I'm not even touching you, Sanada-san." he said. But he quickly decided that Sanada had gotten enough teasing for one day. Yukimura stuck out his tongue tentatively, rasping the leaking tip with the lightest touch.

Sanada's reaction was immediate. His head slammed back and hit the door. Yukimura's tongue probed the head, moving down to lap at the crown and touching the underside with circular motions. Sanada groaned, riding out the sensations in waves. His muscles were tensing, his hands twitching as if looking for something to grasp as Yukimura caressed him with agonizing strokes.

"H-Haa!" Sanada shuddered violently when Yukimura's actions became bolder. His tongue retreated and then Yukimura's lips were open, swallowing him in. "Hnn… Yuki… mura…"

It didn't take much more than that for Sanada to reach his peak. Yukimura brought him far into his mouth, humming softly. Sanada then cried out, his back arched against the door and the tension snapping as he spurted out his essence into Yukimura's mouth.

Sanada's face was contorted as he gulped in air, slumping against the wood of the door. Yukimura made sure Sanada was fully spent before swallowing the creamy liquid, licking him clean.

Yukimura stood back up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and looking very satisfied. "Well, wasn't that nice?" he purred, looking at Sanada's sagging form.

Sanada attempted to recompose himself. His eyes went to Yukimura's lips, looking like he couldn't believe what had just happened. "Oh my god." said Sanada, not sure whether to be mortified or impressed. "Y-You just… on my... _oh my god_."

"You really should get out of those pants now." pointed out Yukimura, handing Sanada the pair of jogging pants that had fallen to the ground.

Sanada nodded, feeling like he was in a dreamlike trance as he kicked off his shoes and stepped out of the pants and underpants that had pooled down to his ankles. He stepped into the jogging pants quickly. They were rather short for him, showing his ankles, but anything was better than his other pair with the big wet spot in the front.

"Sorry that I have no underpants to lend you." said Yukimura, looking at Sanada up and down. "But it doesn't show. You'll be fine like this."

Yukimura was feeling exceptionally triumphant, seeing Sanada looking at the bluenette's pale torso, then down at his pants. Yukimura had won this match. What he had given Sanada had been just a sample of the real thing. There was so much more to be had and Sanada knew it.

There was absolutely no doubt in Yukimura's mind that Sanada was now trapped in his grasp. Sanada would definitely come back, seeking more than just a quick blowjob. This tall and handsome man was definitely what Yukimura had been desiring. The fact that Sanada was a nice and untainted boy was a bonus. He could tell that this was the start of something.

Yukimura laughed again when Sanada stood there silently before lowering into a full bow.

"There's no need for that, Sanada-san." said Yukimura. "I was glad to help out."

Apparently Sanada had been rendered speechless because he merely nodded, not uttering a word... or perhaps he was not sure about what one should say in these circumstances.

Sanada had never guessed that such a thing would have happened. He had liked Yukimura from the first second they had met and had hoped to perhaps spend a nice evening talking to the bluenette… but this was completely beyond all expectations. Sanada still felt hot, remembering the feeling of Yukimura's mouth on him. He knew he wouldn't sleep that night, his mind overcome with thoughts of Yukimura.

So he felt sad when Yukimura opened the door, saying they couldn't stay here for long in case someone spotted them.

Yukimura walked Sanada back down the dark hallway. They were quiet on the way there, all the way until they stopped right behind the door that separated the club from this private and silent hall.

"Well, I can't keep you here forever." said Yukimura. "I have a job to do for the next few hours. I suppose this is good-bye."

Sanada nodded numbly, not feeling like leaving just yet. Once they stepped out of this hall, they would part ways. Yukimura would go dance with other men and Sanada would go on home, not knowing if he would ever see Yukimura again.

Sanada reached forward, wrapping his arms tentatively around Yukimura's lithe figure. The bluenette froze with shock but then melted into the warmth, letting himself lay in the sanctuary of Sanada's arms. Sanada breathed in the scent of Yukimura, the feel of him in his arms. He wanted to savour this moment, to memorize how Yukimura felt as he held him.

He didn't seem to want to go, but Sanada pulled back his arms, looking at Yukimura as if he were the only thing in the world that mattered.

"I... I'll see you around then." said Sanada, a promise of seeing each other again. He opened the door. "Thank you for everything."

It was the last words Yukimura caught before their voices were drowned in the loud music. Sanada left the back hall, walking back to the table he had been at previously, one where his friends were still seated. Yukimura smiled, standing in the doorway and looking fondly up ahead at the odd man for whom he had developed a strange affection for.

Footsteps sounded from behind him and Yukimura turned back, seeing a small figure emerging from the darkness of the hallway.

Fuji smiled at him, his eyes only slightly open and showing a piercing blue. "Saa… what a handsome man." Fuji said, knowingly. "He seems nice." The shorter dancer was looking forward at Sanada's table.

"Eavesdropping is not nice, Fuji. Just how much did you see?" said Yukimura.

"I was hiding under the couch in our dressing room, so I saw pretty much everything." replied Fuji, smile not faltering for a second.

Yukimura jolted in shock. "W-What? You saw when I-"

Fuji laughed, seeing Yukimura's mortified expression. "I'm only joking, Yukimura. I was merely walking backstage and saw him hug you." His eyes gleamed wickedly. "But since you just admitted to it… what exactly _did_ you do in the dressing room with him?"

Yukimura shook his head in disbelief though his eyes were laughing. "You are terrible, Fuji." He paused. "I'll tell you later."

Yukimura never took a client backstage before so this man must have been quite something, thought Fuji. "I'll hold you to that promise, Yukimura."

"Of course you will." said Yukimura. His head turned back to Sanada's table. He was disappointed to see that Sanada and his friends were standing up, ready to leave.

Sanada looked back for a second, gaze hopefully and then softening when then saw Yukimura still there. Yukimura waved back at him. Then, just like that, Sanada walked away and left the building.

Yukimura sighed, the only thing keeping him there was knowing that Sanada was going to come back another day.

Fuji grabbed Yukimura arm. "Come on, a bit of dancing will cheer you up." said the brunette.

Yukimura let out a loud exhale. "Fine." he said, following Fuji to the dance floor. "But if someone drops their drink of me again, I'm holding you personally responsible."

**~o~o~o~**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: The Imperial Palace Chapter 2**

**Setting: Strip Club AU.**

**Rating: Soft M. **

**Reason: Because it's Fuji's once in four years birthday! **

**Pairing: Perfect Pair and some Oshitari. **

**Warnings: Uncreative content, possible OOC-ness, boots, lots of grinding, stripper!Fuji kidnapped my brain, etc. **

**Disclaimer: Konomi-sensei owns all.**

**~o~o~o~**

* * *

><p>Tezuka wasn't too peeved when it came to working part-time at the <em>Imperial Palace<em>, the most famous and renowned gay strip club in town.

It hadn't originally been his first choice of employment thanks to the late hours, but the pay was decent. Although there were far more flirtatious clients than was normal, he had it easy. Especially since he wasn't among the erotic dancers.

All Tezuka had to do was arrive on time at his workplace, appear uninterested and take drink orders. It was a relatively simple job once one mastered the art of mixing drinks. He did it to pay for his schooling and, all in all, it wasn't too bad. Of course, there was always the occasional drunk or pervert who would go beyond flirting, asking him to take his clothes off like the other dancers. Such a demand was always met with an ice-cold glare and sharp remark about the fact that he was a bartender, not a stripper.

Today was a slow night. It was a Wednesday… or rather, it had been Wednesday night an hour ago. It was now just passed 1am on Thursday, smack in the middle of the work week, which meant there were not many clients in the club.

The right side of the club held the bar, which was the area where Tezuka spent his hours working. Tezuka did his work as usual from behind a large polished wood counter. Glasses of all shapes, sizes and colors were hung up on shelves or hanging down by special hooks. Some glasses were for large quantities of beer, tiny ones for shots, and elegant cocktail glasses and fancy wine glasses for those desiring a more colorful or refined beverage. The back wall had cupboards in which assorted bottles of all types of liquor were held. Tezuka washed his hands from the small sink in the corner before getting to work pouring drinks, shaking them, mixing them into a variety of colors and handing them over to the clientele.

Tezuka wasn't the type to do a lazy job. He held a strict work ethic and focused solely on the clients while keeping his area clean and organized. He worked fast and efficiently, pouring drinks with practiced ease despite not being fond of drinking such concoctions himself. His hands knew exactly where each glass and bottle was located and he could probably make orders with his eyes closed if he would one day choose to do so.

Unfortunately, Tezuka's fast paced work was wasted on a night such as this one, where there were few clients to keep him occupied.

"Tezuka darling, get me another glass." said a lazy drawl from Tezuka's left. The navy-haired man was smiling as him, waving his empty glass that had contained brandy just a second ago.

Tezuka sighed. "Sorry Oshitari. Five glasses is the limit I'm allowed to give you." he said. "Boss's orders."

Oshitari rolled his eyes from behind round glasses. "Oh come now, Atobe won't have to know. Last I heard, he was still in France."

"He just came back yesterday. And even if he were half-way around the world, I still wouldn't give you another drink." said Tezuka. He grabbed the nearest cloth and began wiping at the counter. Its surface was empty except for Oshitari's elbows and a glass belonging to a miserable-looking man in a suit and glasses at the other end.

"You are no fun, Tezuka. You are much too serious. Don't you know rules are meant to be broken?" said Oshitari. His voice got lower, deeper than it already was. "Come, I'm sure we can work something out that will… _satisfy_ us both."

Tezuka turned away. If Oshitari thought his flirty voice would work on the stoic bartender, then he still had a long way to go. Really, Oshitari came in here nearly every evening. He should know what Tezuka was like by now. And he should know that no matter how much he begged and pleaded, Tezuka never disobeyed orders and stuck to the limit of five drinks a night.

If he gave Oshitari more drinks, then very very bad things would happen. Tezuka shivered when he remembered what had happened the last time Oshitari had had too much to drink. It was not a pretty sight.

Tezuka didn't have much else to do that evening. He made sure his area was spotless, wiping the counter every few minutes. He washed some glasses, slowly wiping at them and then fixing them neatly on the shelves for a lack of better things to do.

Looking on, Tezuka could see that the dancers were not very enthusiastic at the lack of clients either. Even the music seemed slower than usual. The only one who was laughing and appearing to be in the best of moods was Yukimura, who was dancing with full passion next to a client who had given him a generous tip.

"He looks happier than usual today." noted Oshitari, pointing his empty glass in Yukimura's direction.

"Hn." grunted Tezuka.

"I heard Yukimura had quite the wild escapade yesterday." said Oshitari, smiling. "I heard from Mukahi, who heard from Zaizen, who heard from Shiraishi, who heard from Fuji that Yukimura took someone back to his room last night."

Tezuka said nothing. He didn't like gossip. It was pointless and most often wrong. Although… he had heard the very same rumour just a few hours earlier and couldn't help but wonder if it was true. Yukimura had never taken someone back into the dressing room before. In fact, he was probably among the least likely to do so. But Tezuka couldn't deny that Yukimura had vanished for quite a while last night.

"I wonder who the lucky bastard was." pondered Oshitari. "He must have been quite something to get Yukimura to be this enthusiastic today." He rolled his shoulders back. "It's a pity Valentine's Day can't come around more often. Such great things happen on that day."

Tezuka wanted to ask how a one night stand was considered a "great thing", but he refrained. Tezuka straightened out his clothes, wiping his hands on his apron. He wore a crisp white collared shirt covered by a black vest. His pants were black as well and he had a small apron tied around his waist. The apron's large pocket held the few coins he had made from tips and a corkscrew for opening new bottles. He gazed under the counter, where a novel was barely visible next to the register. Tezuka had began reading the book yesterday and he couldn't wait to continue it. If the night continued to be dead, then Tezuka could allow himself a break to read a few more pages. The thought greatly appealed to him.

Oshitari found him atrociously boring for wasting his break time reading difficult western books when he was in a strip club and could find much more creative ways to have fun… but Tezuka was but a simple man with simple needs.

The miserable-looking man at the end of the counter stood up and left only a few minutes later, leaving Oshitari the only customer around the bar area.

Tezuka had been ready to take out his book when a familiar gentle beat began playing from the stage. The bespectacled man paused, recognizing that music. His head automatically shot up, finding the stage easily and feeling grateful that there were no customers to divert his attention when he saw a much too enticing and lithe figure walking along the stage, preparing for his routine.

Oshitari chuckled. If there was a single person who was able to take Tezuka's full attention away from work, it was Fuji Shuusuke.

And really, it wasn't hard to see why Tezuka thought Fuji was so mesmerizing. Fuji wasn't the head dancer and most requested performer in the club for nothing.

"You should go ask him out." said Oshitari. He got no reply from Tezuka. The brunette was already absorbed in watching the stage as Fuji began one of his most famous routines.

Whether the audience was large or small, Fuji always gave the same amount of effort. Or rather, Fuji would always put on his best show whenever he performed while Tezuka was scheduled. It was something Oshitari had noticed from coming nearly every night.

Fuji's translucent skin shone in the dim lights of the club, his honey-brown hair framing his delicately rounded face and giving him an absolutely stunning appearance. All eyes were on Fuji as he ran a hand down his torso, one that was covered by a loose fishnet shirt and then nothing when he tore it off in one fluid stroke. The pants came off soon after, peeling out the skin-tight material of jeans inch after agonizing inch, kicking them off in the end. His hips swayed, coated in nothing but much too revealing underpants that Tezuka would label as panties.

Fuji added his own personal touch today. The dancer reached down and grabbed something. It was only once Fuji was zipping them up his legs that Tezuka realized they were black leather boots. They even had heels, ones that made Fuji appear much taller… and a hell of a lot sexier too.

Tezuka stopped breathing for a second, drinking in the sight. Boots. And _th__igh-high _ones at that. He abandonned all thoughts of ever looking away at that point.

Oshitari smirked, seeing Tezuka's eyes widen for a second as he took in everything from the pretty face to the revealing lingerie underwear to the gleaming boots. Really, Oshitari didn't understand how it was that Tezuka hadn't fallen into a panting mess at Fuji's feet yet. The bartender truly did have marvellous self-control.

Fuji was quite talented at what he did. The supple dancer not only made the entire act of pole dancing look natural, but he still managed to steal their breath away with such smoldering sensuality even if he was dancing in high-heels.

The song was not the usual fast-paced beat. It was a slower version, giving out a long violin note in which Fuji arched elegantly, leaning over backwards and gliding his hips against the pole as his thighs wrapped around it. He twisted his leg around the metal shaft, twisting gracefully. His hands gripped the rod as he lowered himself to his knees, legs spread provocatively at his audience and igniting some cheers from the few who were in the club.

Tezuka stood there in a daze for the entirety of the song. He wondered what it would be like to have those milky legs wrap around his waist, hips bucking against him and Fuji whispering his name. Tezuka had never even thought of the possibility that he might be attracted to men before he began working here. But having Fuji as a co-worker would definitely be a strain on anyone's sexuality.

The dance ended as it usually did. The beat of the song increasingly became faster and faster, with Fuji twirling in the air at an equally fast pace like a gravity-defying succubus. Then it suddenly ended on a single long note with a lissome, almost statuesque posture from Fuji and a sensation of disappointment from Tezuka. It was over already. He wished it would go on longer.

Tezuka knew what would happen now. It was like his own routine. Tezuka would proceed to have the memory of Fuji's erotic dance fresh in his head for the rest of his shift. It would then linger in his mind until he got home and did something about his growing need, muffling his noises by pressing his mouth against a pillow and hoping his roommate wouldn't wake up and catch him with his hands down his pyjama pants.

Tezuka was snapped back to reality when he saw that Fuji was not walking backstage as he usually did after a routine. Rather... Fuji was strutting down the stage in the direction of the bar, hips swaying side to side in a hypnotizing manner and a closed eye smirk on his face.

The bartender grabbed the nearest clean glass and began wiping it with a dry dishtowel, appearing busy.

The sound of a stool scrapping against the floor could be heard as Fuji sat down.

"Good evening, Tezuka." said Fuji pleasantly.

"Good evening." replied Tezuka. His eyes were very focused on the already clean glass in his hand. He kept wiping it.

"I was dancing and noticed you were still working." said Fuji. He was always the one to start a conversation. Tezuka was not very social and would have spent his days gazing at Fuji from a distance otherwise. "Don't you normally take your break around this time?"

Tezuka frowned at the glass in his hand. "There were… delays." he said.

"Oh? What kind of delays?" asked Fuji, his voice coated in sugar sweetness. Tezuka looked at Fuji's eyelids for a second, willing himself not to look down at the bare skin of the dancer's chest.

"I was cleaning up." said Tezuka.

"He was staring at your ass while you danced." clarified Oshitari from his corner. Tezuka shot Oshitari a dirty glare, making himself a silent promise to lower Oshitari's drink limit to three glasses from now on. Oshitari merely winked back at him.

It was just such a pity to see Fuji flirting with Tezuka every other day only to have the idiotic bartender ruin it by his reluctance to flirt back, thought Oshitari. The navy-haired man was a romantist at heart. That was why Fuji and Tezuka desperately needed to get it on. Right now. Against the bar counter. With Fuji's leather boots hanging off the edge as Tezuka thrust into the supple stripper over and over and both of them would be gasping, crying out for more and-

Oshitari smirked to himself. He should write an erotic novel one of these days.

"Ah, I'm glad you enjoyed my routine, Tezuka." said Fuji. "I wanted to spice it up a little so I borrowed my sister's boots."

Tezuka nodded. Oshitari wanted to kick the bartender for remaining silent.

"I thought the boots were a marvellous touch, Fuji." said Oshitari. Gosh, Tezuka was supposed to be saying these compliments. With the way the bespectacled man stared, it was not a mystery that he was attracted to Fuji.

"Thank you Oshitari-kun." said the stripper. Fuji did not even spare a glance in Oshitari's direction, his eyes fixed solely on Tezuka as if trying to assess the brunette's every movement and every slight change in facial expression.

"Well since I just finished my dance number, I get a break too." said Fuji. He leaned on the counter smiling through half-lidded eyes. "How about we take our break together, Tezuka?"

Tezuka swallowed thickly. His eyes darted down to his book under the counter and then back up to where Fuji was tilted towards him, mouth curved upward almost suggestively.

Well-plotted novel… or sexy leather boots-clad Fuji? Tezuka had never spent time alone with dancer outside of the bar counter's boundaries, but even so, his choice was quite obvious.

"All right…" said Tezuka. He finally put the clean glass and dishtowel to the side as he tried to ignore the rapid thumping of his heart. He made sure to lock the cash register and put up the 'Be back in 15 minutes' sign. Fuji moved off his stool and Tezuka took the opportunity to straighten out his clothes and try to get his unruly brown hair to stop sticking out. Tezuka looked at his reflection with the help of the cabinet of glasses. Oshitari laughed loudly.

"Come on, be a big boy. You look fine." said Oshitari. Tezuka shot him another glare when he stepped away from the counter to go join Fuji.

Fuji was waiting for him against the far wall, inconspicuous in the dark corner, probably to avoid customers while he took his break. As Tezuka approached, he noticed Fuji was sweating quite a bit. Looks like the dance routine had been more straining than usual with the addition of high-heeled boots.

Tezuka nearly told Fuji not to push himself so much. It was just a strip dance. He didn't need to put so much effort into keeping it fresh, especially when there were so little clients around. The regular choreography was fine as it is, with or without boots… even if the boots were sexy. But then Tezuka's eyes found the small patches of skin along Fuji's thighs, between the panties and the high boots, and Tezuka had no higher brain functions left.

The bartender settled close to Fuji, appearing nonchalant. He leaned back against the wall while keeping a good distance of personal space between them. There was a silence between them. Tezuka had no idea what he was supposed to talk about so he hoped Fuji would start.

And to his relief, Fuji did speak.

"You've been putting in much more hours lately." said Fuji.

Tezuka paused, not even questionning how Fuji always managed to notice the simplest things about him, like that time he got a hair trim or new shoes. Fuji just noticed everything.

"Hn. I asked for it." Tezuka replied.

"School?" Fuji guessed. Tezuka nodded. Yes, it was always about school. University wasn't cheap. Tuition cost a fortune and so did school books. Whoever made such outrageous prices must be laughing all the way to the bank by now.

"Ah, I don't miss school very much. Makes me glad I'm no longer a student." said Fuji. "But besides that, don't overwork yourself, Tezuka. Your schoolwork will only suffer if you become exhausted."

"I know my limits." Tezuka said it and immediately broke out into a long yawn. He flushed in embarrassment.

Fuji's smile widened. "Ah, see, you are tired."

"I am not."

"So you are simply bored of talking to me then?" asked Fuji.

"That's not it." Tezuka replied quickly. He sighed, seeing that grin still plastered on Fuji's face. He was being teased; that much was obvious. And with Fuji, he never seemed to win no matter what he said.

Fuji chuckled. "I'm just teasing you, Tezuka." he said. "You are so quiet all the time so it makes me want to see how you'll react to different things. Actually, I think I have yet to hear you say more than five words at a time to me." Fuji approached him, his hand sliding up to touch Tezuka's arm. "Yet you talk to Oshitari."

"Oshitari's a customer." said Tezuka, trying to pay minimal attention to how close they were together and how Fuji's _hand_ was on his _arm_.

"Even so… you seem a lot more comfortable talking to him." continued Fuji. "Do you find it easier to talk to clients than to me?"

Yes, thought the bartender. That was because Oshitari was not the most gorgeous stripper in the whole club and didn't prance around practically naked with thigh-high boots that made Tezuka question his sexuality. But besides that… was it just Tezuka's imagination or did Fuji sound somewhat envious?

"I don't mind… talking to you." said Tezuka. He paused. "That was six words." he added.

Fuji threw his head back and laughed. "Yes, six whole words in a row." he said. "My, we are doing marvellous progress today. Shall we go for seven?"

Tezuka said nothing. It was hard not to feel like Fuji was treating him like a child, trying to get him to talk.

"Or rather…" said Fuji. "Instead of talking, there is something else I had been hoping to see from you."

"What?"

"A smile." answered Fuji.

Tezuka merely frowned, shaking his head. He never liked being forced to smile. It only resulted in making him look stiff with an ugly forced smile. Plus others would immediately laugh, saying that his face was hilarious.

Fuji gave him a cross expression, folding his arms over his chest, thoughtful. "So smiles are still off the charts for me?"

"Smiles are off the charts for anyone." said Tezuka. He wouldn't willingly smile for anyone right now. "Seven words."

"Hm… so you won't smile either..." said Fuji, pouting. "Do you not like me, Tezuka?"

"I do… like you." said Tezuka, hesitantly and wondering if this could be considered a love confession or not. He felt his cheeks burning, hoping Fuji didn't dwell on what he said too much.

"Really? Then I think you should do something to show me that." said Fuji, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "How about a dance?"

Tezuka swallowed thickly. "I can't dance." he said quickly. It was true, but also he was making up excuses to hide the fact that he was out of his comfort zone. Unfortunately, Tezuka felt like he was sounding completely stingy by saying no.

Fuji's eyes opened, showing a piercing deep blue. "Ah, but that doesn't matter. Anyone can sway their hips, Tezuka." he said, leaning in close and whispering in the taller man's ear. "I'm not taking no for an answer this time."

Tezuka shivered at the tone and the dancer smiled wickedly in return. Before Tezuka could rearrange his thoughts, Fuji's fingers were snagged around his belt loops, pulling him away from the wall so that they were still hidden in the corner but had enough room to actually dance.

Tezuka's mind went blank when Fuji settled into the music's rhythm, shaking his waist lightly and then pressing forward, against Tezuka's thighs.

Tezuka flushed. Everyday he saw these types of dances from clients but… he wouldn't go as far as to call them dances. It was more like swaying their hips and bashing them into other people's private regions. Tezuka never thought he'd see the day where he'd be grinding with Fuji.

Fuji's hand went behind Tezuka, pressing him forward. The hand lowered, smoothly touching the curve of his ass, covered in dressy black pants. Tezuka jolted, feeling Fuji give him a firm squeeze.

"F-Fuji-"

"Ah, this is more like it." said Fuji. "Just move a bit."

Tezuka was glad for the dim lighting because his flush could be hidden. He swallowed his reluctance and obeyed, stirring his hips from side to side, grazing against Fuji and hoping he didn't look utterly ridiculous doing so.

Fuji's chuckled. "See, it's not too hard."

No, but something was definitely getting hard, thought Tezuka with sudden panic. Fuji's hold was relentless, hands trapping Tezuka as he increasing the pace. While Tezuka was swaying side to side almost awkwardly, Fuji grinded with a definite purpose, pressing against Tezuka's groin and creating delicious friction between them.

Tezuka could feel Fuji's hot breath against his neck. Fuji squeezed his fingers on Tezuka's ass again, causing the bartender to jerk forward and then gasp when the movement shot a flare of arousal through him.

It was too much. Tezuka couldn't take it. His movements slowed and he tried walking backwards, away from the source of the unbearable chafing.

It didn't work. Fuji only followed him, grating the fabric of Tezuka pants against his heating member. Tezuka's back met the wall. Fuji didn't stop, one of his knees came up, spreading Tezuka's thighs and rubbing what was between them. His arms went around the bartender's neck.

Tezuka gasped, the heavy rasping stimulating him over and over. Ah… so this was why people danced this way, thought Tezuka as he stifled a long moan that had been threatening to pour from his lips. His mouth was open, breathing harshly. Fuji thrust up, hard, and Tezuka's head shot back, eyes closed as his head hit the wall painfully. He could feel the entire line of Fuji's body, the shapely legs wrapped around his own, those mesmerizing hips pressing back and those devious lips, smiling before sinking in and planting a small sucking kiss along Tezuka's neck.

Tezuka couldn't hear the music. The only sound he was aware of was his heart's heavy pounding and his panting, almost wanton, breaths. All he thought about was Fuji's small waist, constantly scrapping against his crotch and a knee that was lightly rubbing against the material of his pants, right where his balls were. Fuji's hand ran up, feeling silky brown strands slipping through his fingers. The hand tightened in his hair, pushing Tezuka's head down. Tezuka blindly obliged and was rewarded with Fuji's mouth pressing against his in a long, drawn-out kiss.

The sweet taste assaulted Tezuka's tongue. He felt Fuji pressing in, forcing his own pink muscle through Tezuka's parted lips. The bespectacled man was no kissing expert and went with his instinct, finding Fuji's tongue and sucking on it. The action earned him a throaty moan from Fuji, one that he greedily swallowed.

"Mm…" breathed Fuji. Their thighs rocked together, back and forth, with no attempt at even masking it as dancing. They no longer held a rhythm as the pleasure drew them out. Tezuka finally curled his own hands around Fuji, tracing the dancer's spine, feeling the jutted hipbone and lower still to touch the creamy skin of Fuji's thighs. It was what he had been wanting to do for the longest time. He could feel that the skin was smooth and every bit as soft as Tezuka had imagined.

Their kisses turned sloppy and desperate. Fuji's cheeks were glowing pink, his eyes a cloudy blue. Right as Tezuka felt his muscles stringing tight and his thrusting turning desperate, Fuji stopped, pushing his hips back so that they were no longer in direct contact with Tezuka's.

Tezuka felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck, one that Fuji caught with his lips, biting and sucking on that supple flesh. Fuji's hips didn't resume their movements, keeping still a fair distance away. Tezuka could feel his building tension residing from its peak.

"Fuji… why did you…?" said Tezuka, gasping for air.

Fuji pulled back completely, smiling beatifically. "Your break is over." he answered.

Tezuka blinked through the haze, coming out of his trance and feeling that his hair and clothes were much messier than before... not to mention he had quite the strain in his pants. A quick look at the clock above the bar was enough to say that his break really was over. And worse, the last customers of the night were sitting at stools along the bar, waiting for him to come back and serve them before they left.

Tezuka swallowed thickly. "Ah…"

Fuji giggled, pressed a soft kiss to Tezuka's cheek. "That was fun. We should do it again sometimes." said the dancer. "Bye."

And then Fuji left, flaunting back to the dance floor while looking extremely pleased with himself. Tezuka watched, speechless, as Fuji walked in the direction of a smirking Yukimura. The bluenette gave Fuji the thumbs up and then looked back at Tezuka only to wave at him.

And so Tezuka was left to walk back behind the bar's counter and dearly hope that the lump in his pants was not noticeable through his apron. He tried to straighten his clothes as much as possible and fixed his crooked glasses before asking a customer for her order.

Tezuka went back to work making a cocktail and preparing a few limes with tequila shots. He could feel the definite looming of Oshitari's stares on him as he worked. Of course the dark-blue haired man had not left. Oshitari had probably watched his whole affair with Fuji from that seat. The thought made a light blush find its way back to Tezuka's cheeks and he found it increasingly hard to focus. It was already difficult to work with legs that felt like jelly and a persistent arousal in his pants. Not to mention his head was full of thoughts of the heated kisses he had shared with Fuji. Tezuka was still trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened. He had somehow danced and made-out with the person who had been haunting his fantasies for the last few months. It was unreal.

Once the drinks were served, Tezuka took a deep breath, leaning back against the counter and feeling tired. Unfortunately, he couldn't relax. Not with Oshitari staring constantly at him like that.

"What?" said Tezuka.

Oshitari smirked in a way that immediately showed that yes, he had been watching everything.

"Do you need to go to the bathroom to take care of that?" asked Oshitari, pointing one finger at Tezuka's nether regions.

Tezuka willed himself not to be embarrassed. He loosened his apron, hoping it would do a better job of covering up his raging hard-on. "I'm fine." he snapped. He had a job to do and had no time to be distracted. It was almost closing time too, according to the clock that read 2:25am. Right as he thought about willing his erection away, his eyes found Fuji's from across the club. The dancer was sitting close to the stage and whispering to Yukimura. Both were looking his way and smiling. Tezuka groaned. There was no way it would go away easily when Fuji was in the room to remind him of it.

"Well, I think we all learned a valuable lesson today." said Oshitari gloatingly.

"What?" said Tezuka.

"That Fuji is a damn good tease."

Tezuka took a deep breath, thoughtful about it for a second. Yes, Fuji could have easily finished it without leaving him alone to serve clients with a tent his pants. "Ah…" he agreed.

Oshitari chuckled at Tezuka's dejected expression. It was rare for Tezuka to show so much emotion in one night. Fuji had made excellent advancements. Not only had Fuji managed to get a whole seven words in a row from Tezuka, but he had also managed to kiss that mouth and nearly make Tezuka orgasm. That alone was the pure definition of progress.

"If you want to jerk off under your apron, I'll be glad to pretend not to see it." said Oshitari.

"Shut up Oshitari." said Tezuka, going back to cleaning the counter and devoting himself to avoiding Fuji and Yukimura's looks until closing time.

**~o~o~o~**


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: The Imperial Palace Chapter 3. **

**Setting: Strip Club AU.**

**Rating: Forever M. **

**Reason: I don't want to do my homework. !procrastination**

**Pairing: Alpha Pair everywhere. And some Atobe in there too. **

**Warnings: Uncreative content, possible OOC-ness, Fuji in a skirt for no reason, Sanada being obsessed, school uniforms, etc. **

**Disclaimer: Konomi-sensei owns le all.**

* * *

><p>Yukimura… Yukimura… <em>Seiichi.<em>

"Ngh… Yukimura…" Sanada moaned, smothering his face against the pillow to keep his voice from rising. He chanted the name of the beautiful dancer he had met a few nights ago, whispering it over and over under his breath. Ever since that night, Yukimura constantly lingered in Sanada's mind, haunting his dreams, spreading warmth throughout his whole body at the mere thought of the gorgeous stripper.

Sanada squeezed his hand, smoothly running it from the base to the tip of his erection. His shirt was unbuttoned, hanging off his arms and displaying his abdomen. His pants were just low enough so he could palm his dick without obstacles. He kept his eyes trained on the door in case his roommate, Yanagi, would decide to walk in their shared bedroom, but his mind was elsewhere, imagining wavy blue hair and beautiful pink lips wrapping around his cock.

"Ah… ah…" Quick gasps escaped from Sanada's mouth. He let his finger scratch the tip, his other hand caressing the entire length, kneading it increasingly faster as he approached his peak.

He remembered to grab a tissue at the last second, pumping his cock a few more times before ejaculating into it, Yukimura's name a feverish whisper on his lips. He wiped himself clean, chucking the used tissue into the nearest wastebasket and checking the covers for any lasting evidence of his deed. When he found none, he buttoned up his shirt and pulled up his pants in a hurry.

But despite his actions, Sanada felt unsatisfied once again. He sighed, feeling that his hand was not a very good substitute for actual human contact. He knew the only way to cure this affliction would be to actually go back and visit Yukimura. Sanada's cheeks took on a pink tint at the thought, trying to imagine a scenario of himself going back to visit the sweet and beautiful Yukimura. The fictional sequence Sanada imagined somehow always ended in him making a total fool out of himself.

Really, Sanada should have just asked for Yukimura's phone number. That would have simplified everything and saved him the trouble of debating whether or not he wanted the traumatizing experience of stepping foot inside a strip club again.

Sanada looked at his reflection in the mirror behind the door, making sure his blush was gone. He cracked open the window and straightened out the covers on his mattress, always so paranoid that Yanagi would discover what he had been doing. When everything looked fine, Sanada left the bedroom. He walked out to the main room that was a combination of the kitchen and living room. Living in such a tight space was one of the downsides of living independantly in a small apartment while going to school. It wasn't all bad since Yanagi was a pretty decent roomate and they didn't have parents nagging at them to clean all the time… but the place certainly was cramped and allowed them for very little privacy.

"Hi." Sanada said as nonchalantly as possible. Yanagi looked up from the small dining table in the corner, having been in the middle of reading a huge physics textbook.

"I just saw you five minutes ago." stated Yanagi. "A greeting is hardly in order."

"Ah…" Sanada awkwardly sat down on the couch, facing away from Yanagi. He pretended to be extremely interested in the coffee stain on one of the pillows until he heard the shuffling of pages being turned, indicating that Yanagi was once again absorbed in his reading.

The coffee table in front of Sanada held a pair of pants on top of it, the very same ones he had borrowed from Yukimura. The pants had been washed and ironed, neatly folded and were now ready to be taken back to their proper owner. Sanada stared, his eyebrows furrowing together and feeling like the pants were mocking him.

Sanada knew he should go back and visit the Imperial Palace... especially after he had practically promised Yukimura that he would be coming back. But Sanada was completely uncertain. He had never dated someone before, let alone an alluring stripper who gave him head the first day they met. Even if his body longed to see the bluenette again, his mind was in a dilemma.

Besides, what would he say if he went back? He could easily give the excuse that he came back to return the pants… but then what? Should he thank Yukimura? Should he invite Yukimura out for dinner like any normal date or was that too rash? Sanada exhaled loudly, leaning his head down between his hands. He just didn't know. This was so not within his comfort zone. Maybe he should ask Niou for advice…

Sanada then mentally hit himself for even considering it. Someone as flamboyent as Niou was the last person he should ask help from.

"Tarundoru, Sanada Genichirou!" Sanada shouted at himself, tired of the constant worry plaguing his brain. "Don't be a coward! Go back to that club and ask him out on a date!" Pumped up, Sanada stood up, his head held high and fist clenched in a pose of determination.

A sigh could be heard from behind the capped man.

"Genichirou, please stop yelling at yourself and making strange poses." said Yanagi. "You are disrupting the neighbours again." Geez, this was the reason Yanagi didn't bring friends over often. Sanada could be so _embarrassing_ sometimes.

Sanada coughed awkwardly and sat back down, pretending nothing had happened. He really should remember that he wasn't alone in the room before he began thinking about things involving Yukimura.

"Also, please go see Yukimura-kun." continued Yanagi. "I'm tired of hearing you masturbating every night and chanting his name under your breath." Really, Sanada was completely shameless. Didn't he know the walls were thin and that Yanagi was a light sleeper?

Sanada could feel his cheeks reddening at Yanagi's blunt statements.

"Ah… but… what should I say to him?" Sanada asked, attempting to divert the attention away from his chronic masturbation.

Yanagi sighed for the second time. "Do you want me to go with you and hold your hand? Honestly, Genichirou, you are a full grown adult. Go there, have a nice talk with Yukimura-kun and invite him out on a date. The worst he can say is no." said the data man. "I estimate that the odds are on your side with a 72% chance of Yukimura-kun agreeing to spending more time with you... that is unless you mess up by doing something completely idiotic, of course."

Sanada swallowed a lump in his throat. Yukimura could say no. He felt dread churning in his stomach. "But-"

"Genichirou, don't be a coward."

Right. Right! Sanada wasn't about to chicken out now. Sanada Genichirou was no wimp. Sanada stood back up, his fist once again clenching in fiery resolve. "I'm going!" he announced in a quick, rash decision. He rolled back his shoulders as if preparing for a battle. He then stomped forward, leaving the apartment like he was a samurai ready to conquer and destroy an army.

Yanagi had to wait 4 minutes and 10 seconds before a flustered Sanada ran back to the apartment and grabbed the borrowed pants that he had forgotten, stuffing them into a bag. Yanagi snorted and wished him good luck. Sanada lowered the rim of his black cap over his eyes, leaving without another word.

**~o~o~o~**

Sanada found his way back to the club easily enough. To him, it was quite the accomplishment to have made it that far without getting lost or turning back to the safety of his apartment.

The streets looked very different in the early evening than they had last time, during the night. The sun had only just set below the horizon of the buildings, basking all the surrounding night clubs in a dim orange glow.

There were not nearly as many people in the area as last time, probably because it wasn't yet the peaks hours to go out clubbing. Actually... Sanada couldn't hear any music from the area. A regular dance club on his right had its hours written on the front door, showing that it would only open its doors in over an hour. Sanada was suddenly filled with uncertainty. He only moved on, hoping The Imperial Palace opened earlier.

Sanada soon reached the familiar building, realizing now just how much bigger The Imperial Palace was compared to all the other places around it. He saw the purple sign above the entrance. It was not yet flashing. Already it was a clear indicator that the strip club was not yet open.

Nonetheless, Sanada hadn't gone all this way for nothing. He took faltering steps forward under the wide arch that led to the door. He opened the large door to go in, popping in his head and seeing nothing but darkness. The door may be unlocked, but there was still no music to be heard. That was a bad sign, thought Sanada. He nearly turned back, pausing and debating about whether he should go on in. Yukimura might not even be there for all he knew.

But then he heard voices from within and immediately decided to enter for the slim chance that one of the voices belonged to Yukimura. He let the door slide shut behind him. The area he walked in was nearly fully dark, but Sanada knew he was around the entrance, where there were washrooms and coat hangers for the customers. Further on was the enormous main room with the dance floor and bar where he had initially met Yukimura.

Sanada was about to head straight for the large main room when, suddenly, something was grabbing the back of his shirt, preventing him from advancing any further.

"Can I help you?" said a male voice from behind him. Sanada's head darted back to see a tall bald man, darker skinned and dressed all in black, holding Sanada's shirt in his grasp. "The club doesn't open for another hour, sir."

A security guard? Sanada didn't recall seeing such a person the first time came here. Then again, he had been pretty preoccupied to notice much last time.

"I just want to know if Yukimura-san is here." Sanada said, turning around to face the bald man, straightening up his shirt once it was out of the man's grip.

The security guard raised an eyebrow. "Yukimura-kun?" His tone was suspicious, watching Sanada's carefully.

"I have to give him something. I borrowed something from him last time so I thought I'd come return it now." explained Sanada, pointing to the paper bag in his hand, the one that held the borrowed sweatpants.

"I could give it to him for you." said the security guard.

Sanada bit the inside of his cheek. "Actually… I would rather give it myself." he said. Without the bag, he would have no good reason to have showed up. "If he's not here, I can come back later."

"Listen, buddy." The security guard straightened up, his eyes dark. He cracked his knuckles menacingly, causing Sanada to take a step back. "There are many guys like you out there who return night after night, thinking they have a special connection with one of the employees here. I see these little fantastical delusions all the time."

"That's not-" Sanada protested.

"Let me tell you this: dancing with you is their job. They are paid for it. Don't go getting your hopes up, thinking you are somehow special in their eyes and then get upset when they don't return your feelings. I've seen some get obsessive to the point of stalking or even attacking people. And when that happens," The security guard raised his fist, hitting the palm of his other hand with it. "they get taken care of by me personally, understand?"

Sanada frowned, stepping back up. "It's not like that. Yukimura-san doesn't… you can't go around making assumptions about people you don't know." argued Sanada. Yukimura _did_ like him. This security guard knew nothing. Sanada wasn't some creepy stalker. There was no way Yukimura went around showing such affection to all his customers.

"How do you know?" said the security guard, challenging. "Do you think a few visits and dances with a dancer suddenly makes you special?" He poked Sanada in the chest. "I would suggest you leave now before I call the authorities."

"Ara, what's going on here, Jackal?"

The tension was crackling in the air, with the bald guard looking ready to push Sanada outside and the capped man ready to stand his guard, when a smaller figure emerged from behind Sanada.

Sanada's eyes widened, recognizing the small body from the other night. It was the dancer from the stage… Fuji, if he remembered correctly.

Fuji was smiling sweetly as if oblivious to the conflict. His honey brown hair was the same as Sanada remembered it, only this time his bangs were held to the side by colorful hair clips. And instead of the tight leather from the other time, Fuji was now wearing what appeared to be a high school uniform with dark pants, a white button-up shirt and a green tie, all perfectly smooth and polished as if he were the ideal student.

"I was just asking this one to leave." replied the security guard. "He seems to be another one who got his hopes up about Yukimura-kun."

Fuji's eyes were barely visible under his eyelids. "Oh, is that so? Yukimura, you say?" Fuji approached them, cocking his head to the side, looking at Sanada up and down. "Saa… aren't you…?" Fuji asked.

Fuji's grin widened. Ah, so this was Sanada-san, if he wasn't mistaken. Fuji hadn't fully been able to see the man's features in the dim backstage hallway last time, but he did recognize the cap and the tall figure certainly matched. This man was definitely the same person who had hugged Yukimura only a few days ago.

He wasn't bad looking, thought Fuji. A little scary with the scowling and cap casting a dark shadow over his eyes, but his broad shoulders and strong stance was very attractive.

Sanada blinked in surprise. "You know me?" he asked.

Fuji nodded, setting a hand on Sanada's arm. "Jackal, this person is Yukimura's ah… _special_ guest." _Special _being codeword for 'the man Yukimura brought back to his room the other night'.

Both of Jackal's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "O-Oh… I see." he said. "My apologies, I had no idea."

"Now now, you were just doing your job." said Fuji. "No need to be sorry. You do an excellent job keeping us safe from the occasional creeps who come in here. But if you don't mind, I'll take it from here. Come, Sanada-san."

Sanada resisted the urge to smirk triumphantly in Jackal's direction when he and Fuji passed by him and into the large open section of the club.

The place looked so very different without the mass of dancing bodies and flashing lights. There were only a few people around; employees cleaning tables, dancers talking at the edge of the stage and the same bespectacled bartender from last time was behind the bar counter, wiping glasses.

"I'm glad you are here, Sanada-san." said Fuji, removing his hand from Sanada's arm. Sanada continued following the lithe brunette. "Yukimura didn't say anything but I can see that he was wondering when you would be coming back to see him. He'll be happy."

"A-Ah…" Sanada didn't know how Fuji knew who he was, but he was glad the dancer had shown up. Sanada had been a small step away from landing outside, mistaken for a stalker and getting into a fight with the security guard. "Thank you for helping me back there."

"It was nothing. Jackal is a good man who takes his job very seriously so it would be best not to patronize him too much." said Fuji.

"I can see that." Sanada grumbled. The capped man looked around the room, expecting to see familiar dark blue hair and the angelic smile of Yukimura running towards him. His effort was fruitless because Yukimura was nowhere within sight. The only people close by were a small group of dancers along the front of the stage, talking to each other. When Sanada passed by, they paused and then started to whisper among themselves, pointing in Sanada's direction. Sanada tried to ignore it. Instead, he noticed that each one of them was wearing a school uniform, some with open buttons that exposed their chests and others with loose ties.

"Hm… I think Yukimura is still backstage." said Fuji. "I'll go get him."

Before Sanada could protest or ask to come with him, the lissome stripper was already strutting off to the opposite end of the club, vanishing behind a door hidden by black curtains. Sanada felt awkward standing there alone, with the group of strippers still training their eyes on him. He didn't feel at ease in such a place. He shuffled his feet, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. This time, he had made sure to wear black pants. Just as a precaution of course.

He decided to sit down, choosing the bar as his first choice. He sat at the same place as the last time he came; on a stool along the right end of the bar, his elbows on the wooden mahogany of the counter. The barkeeper really was the same one as last time. Sanada wondered if the brown-haired employee recognized him.

Either way, the barkeeper moved towards him and asked in a monotone voice, "What can I get you?"

Sanada met the barkeeper's eyes, visible behind small frames. "Isn't the club opening later?" he asked, surprised the barkeeper had even asked.

The barkeeper nodded. "Customers are customers no matter what time of day." he said.

"Ah. No, I'm fine, thank you." said Sanada. "Just… waiting for someone."

The barkeeper said nothing more and returned to his menial task of wiping glasses clean with a dishcloth only to neatly order them along the shelves afterwards. Sanada craned his neck, looking around the wide room, trying to see if Fuji was returning, or better, if Yukimura was appearing anywhere.

"No, no, no, this is not at all acceptable!" came the loud voice of a man from the center of the room. It diverted Sanada's attention immediately. Sanada stared at the source of the loud voice, seeing a very important-looking man in a sleek and very expensive suit talking to one of the high school uniform-clad strippers.

"I specifically asked the pants to be made of velvet and the shirts to be more see-through." The important-looking man pointed at the clothes the erotic dancer was wearing. "And really, they send us _cotton_? You can hardly see any nipples through this shirt. It was supposed to be semi-translucent sheer fabric. This is completely unacceptable."

The stripper, a skinny redhead with V-shaped bangs, rolled his eyes. "Boss, it's no big deal. First of all, uniforms aren't usually made in velvet anyways. And second of all, the shirts will come off later anyways cause we are _strippers_ in a _strip_ club. If you want, we can just not wear the shirts and keep the tie on. That would save us the trouble of dressing and undressing." said the redhead.

The boss's eye twitched at the suggestion. "Mukahi, Ore-sama owns the most renowned and prestigious gay strip club in the city, if not the entire country, and here you are having the _gall_ to suggest that I let you all prance around like some tacky Chip n' Dale dancers?" he demanded. "I won't have it."

Sanada snorted from where he sat. Really, who even called themselves 'ore-sama'? This guy was either a complete narcissist or an idiot. He watched as the red haired dancer, Mukahi, rolled his eyes in annoyance yet again, walking away from the boss, as he said "Whatever you want, Atobe."

The man in the expensive suit, Atobe, made his way in the direction of the bar, sitting only a few seats to Sanada's left. The moment the man sat down, the barkeeper had already poured a glass of wine and set it right in front of Atobe. Atobe took it wordlessly, gulping it down in only a few seconds.

"Honestly, what is so hard about simple velvet? I'm going to have a long talk with Mizuki about these recent bouts of atrocities he calls clothes." said Atobe. The barkeeper didn't reply, refilling the glass and looking like he was much too used to his boss's outbursts.

Standing close, Sanada could see that the man really did look rich and important, as if his arrogant attitude wasn't already a dead giveaway. Besides the suit, he sported a shining silver watch; a Rolex, Sanada realized. His shoes were a gleaming polished black. His hair was perfectly coiffed, a golden brown color. His entire aura reigned of superiority.

After draining his second glass, Atobe turned his head, his eyes finding Sanada as if just now realizing there was another person there.

"Tezuka, who is that man?" Atobe asked the barkeeper instead of directly referring to Sanada.

"A customer." the barkeeper, Tezuka, replied, not even looking up and speaking in a completely apathetic tone.

"Who let him in? Was it the baldy again?"

"I'm here waiting for someone." said Sanada, not liking how this _diva_ was speaking about him as if he weren't even there. "I won't be a bother."

The boss raised one perfectly combed eyebrow, looking at Sanada up and down as if assessing whether he was worth his time.

"Nonetheless, I cannot have a customer roaming around before opening hours. It will disrupt the employees." said the boss.

"I'm not disrupting." Sanada frowned.

"He's not disrupting." Tezuka agreed.

"_Even so,_ I cannot start having customers coming in before the opening time. What if everyone else started doing that, hm?" said Atobe.

Before Sanada could retort, a hand landed on his shoulder. Sanada immediately forgot what he had been about to say when he saw who the owner of the hand was.

"Atobe-san, is there a problem?" said Yukimura, smiling pleasantly and squeezing his hand on Sanada's shoulder. Sanada's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding loudly upon seeing the bluenette before him once again. Yukimura looked the same as before. No… he was even prettier than Sanada remembered. The only difference was the lack of leather pants, now replaced by the same school uniform Fuji had been wearing, as well as having that lovely navy hair tied up in a loose ponytail. Sanada had a feeling that Yukimura would look just as breathtaking no matter what he wore.

Fuji was behind him… and for some reason, he was now wearing a female school uniform, sporting a skirt instead of pants. Sanada didn't even want to ask the reason for the change of wardrobe... even if it did make Fuji's legs look nice.

Atobe flipped his hair back and promptly proceeded to answer. "The problem is the presence of this plebeian in my club when the place is not even open yet. Also, I have an enormous problem with the clothes that everyone is-"

"_Sanada-san _is my guest, Atobe-san." said Yukimura in a tone that left no room for disagreements. Atobe fell silent, narrowing his gaze. Sanada admired Yukimura for being able to speak to his boss in such a way. Sanada would probably snap in an instant if he had a boss like Atobe.

"And I think the uniforms are just lovely." added Yukimura. "What problem is it? Did Mizuki-san use regular silk instead of cashmere silk again? Or perhaps he made our tie in the wrong shade of celadon green?" With Atobe, there was always a problem with everything.

"Now that you mention it…" Atobe observed Yukimura's tie closely. "I recall requesting for a more laurel green-"

"Oh, I'm sure it's fine, Atobe-san." said Yukimura, interrupting the boss. "Now do spare my guest from your quipping. Your bantering is not very appealing."

Atobe's attention returned to Sanada. He observed Sanada closely, from his dirty sneakers to the top of his black cap. He pausing at Sanada's dark eyes. Atobe's lips lifted in amusement when he saw how downright stricken the capped man looked while starring directly at the blue haired stripper.

"Ahn… I see. Is that how it is then?" said Atobe, his fingers brushing his forehead, showing an insightful gaze. It seemed like the blundering clod they called Sanada was practically head over heels crazy about Yukimura. How cute, the oaf actually thought he stood a chance with Yukimura. Atobe nearly laughed right then and there.

"Yes, it is." Yukimura said simply. His palm moved down from Sanada's shoulder, gripping his arm and pulling Sanada out of his seat. "Come with me, Sanada-san, I have something to give you."

Sanada got the message and followed, leaving behind a smirking Atobe, the neutral faced barkeeper and a skirt-clad Fuji in a hurry, glad to be out of there.

Once again, the group of dancers on the stage stared at Sanada as he followed Yukimura across the large dance floor and to the door that would lead them backstage, the same one Sanada remembered from last time.

"Is it… alright if I go in with you?" Sanada asked. The backstage area was probably reserved for employees only. "If your boss is here, I don't want to cause you any trouble."

Yukimura waved him off. "Atobe-san won't be a problem." He held the door open for Sanada. "After you, Sanada-san."

The hallway was as dim and empty as Sanada remembered it. Being in the same place as last time with Yukimura made his heart race wildly. Soon enough, room 03 was before them and Yukimura was hushing him in. Sanada gripped the paper bag in his hand, glad he remembered to bring it along when Yukimura had abruptly taken him out of his seat back at the bar.

The room was the same messy disarray as he remembered, not having much room to manoeuvre around too much without bumping into a table or a dresser. Yukimura was silent, observing him out of the corner of his eye. Sanada swallowed nervously, willing himself to say something. He mentally boosted himself up and gathered the courage to say it.

"Y-You look very nice today, Yukimura-san." said Sanada. His voice sounded too loud in the quiet room and Sanada winced, hoping he didn't sound utterly stupid for saying such a thing.

Yukimura's eyes were twinkling, a small upturn of lips gracing his face at the comment. "Oh, aren't you the kind gentleman today?" he teased. "Thank you. I was beginning to wonder when you would be coming back. It's a relief you showed up. I was starting to doubt you would return." Yukimura frowned, silently demanding an explanation for the tardiness.

"I would never… I-I really wanted to come earlier but… I wasn't sure if…" Sanada looked down, scratching his head in embarrassment. "I-I guess I was feeling a little shy…" he stuttered out. "I haven't really done this before."

Yukimura's eyes were gentle, a smouldering blue that left Sanada feeling like he could drown in them. "Oh, you don't have to be shy, silly." he said.

"A-Ah… sorry. It won't happen again." said Sanada, encouraged by the positive responses and by the fact that Yukimura didn't look angry at his presence.

"Oh, that's right. I still have your pants around here somewhere." Yukimura said. The stripper turned around, opening the drawer of the dresser and rummaging within its contents. Clothes and bracelets and old wrappers and empty soda cans came out, rolling onto the floor. When Yukimura didn't find what he was looking for, he began searching around the small couch, moving a large pile of clothes, looking underneath the mattress and overturning pillows.

Sanada remained to the side, willing himself not to suggest that Yukimura should clean up the messy room to avoid losing things. Instead, he settled with observing the dancer, seeing how the back of his pale neck was now completely visible thanks to the ponytail that held that wavy hair up. Long bangs fell in cascades around his cheeks. Sanada was tempted to step forward, only a few steps, grab Yukimura and kiss him, tasting that smooth neck against his tongue and hearing him gasp.

Now that he thought of it, they hadn't kissed last time. There had been hugging and… much more, Sanada recalled with a blush, but they hadn't kissed. Sanada had never tasted those pink and soft-looking lips. Yukimura's mouth was suddenly looking far too inviting for its own good, a secret taste Sanada hadn't yet tried.

"Aha! Found it." Yukimura proudly announced, picking up the grey pants from under a pile of blankets. He dusted them off. They no longer had a large stain in the crotch area. "I had them washed and ironed but I guess they got a little dirty from the floor. Sorry about that."

Yukimura smiled and stood in front of Sanada, holding out the pants for him to take.

And then, suddenly, Sanada's hands reached out and grabbed Yukimura's cheeks, holding the dancer's face in his palms as he lowered his head to meet Yukimura's lips with his own.

Yukimura dropped the pants, his body freezing in shock when Sanada's face was suddenly right before him, a warm mouth pressing against his lips, moving with almost clumsy nips that had to come from Sanada's lack of experience. The rim of Sanada's black cap dug into Yukimura's forehead, strong hands keeping the stripper in place.

It was only when Yukimura began pushing weakly at Sanada's chest that the raven-haired man came to his senses and realized what he had done. He immediately released Yukimura, taking a step back and looking absolutely mortified.

"I-I'm sorry, I d-didn't mean to- I just… all of a sudden, I couldn't-" Sanada found he couldn't make an excuse for what he had done. Instead he bowed at a perfect 90 degree angle and gave his most sincere "I'm so sorry."

His reply came in the form of silence. Sanada didn't dare look up, his cheeks flaring bright red as he focused his eyes on the ground, seeing the wooden planks layered in crumbs and dust. He felt his cap slide off his head, landing on the floor with a loud thunk.

"My, I didn't know you were so bold, Sanada-san." said Yukimura, chuckling lightly.

Sanada hesitantly looked up, meeting Yukimura's dancing eyes.

"Not all surprises are bad ones." said Yukimura., smirking. "Besides, that's nothing compared to what I did to you last time, right?" His voice grew husky and his fingers brushed Sanada's neck, dipping under the collar.

And then the fingers were suddenly gone. Yukimura picked up the fallen pants and once again held them out to Sanada. "Your pants, Sanada-san."

Sanada straightened up, still feeling hotness on his face and hoping he wasn't really as red as how he felt. He took out the borrowed sweatpants from his paper bag and made an exchange with Yukimura.

"Thank you, Yukimura-san. I… for last time, when you helped me." said Sanada.

"Ah, it was nothing."

"Even so, I am in your debt."

"Hm, is that so?" Yukimura's smile grew mischievous. He threw the returned sweatpants right on top of a pile of clothes on the ground. The bluenette went to the couch, sitting down on the lumpy texture and regarding Sanada with an amused gaze. "Then are you going to give me back something of equal value to what I did?" he asked, teasing again.

Sanada felt his blush come back to full power. "T-That's-" His mind immediately thought back to the last time they were in this room, when Yukimura had gotten down on his knees and…

Sanada tried hiding his face under his cap before remembering that it had fallen to the ground. Is that what Yukimura wanted him to do? He wanted Sanada to suck him? The thought was so embarrassing yet… Sanada considered it for a moment. Would he really be opposed to it? Yukimura had done it and it felt really good. Surely it wasn't that hard, despite being a little intimidating.

Yukimura giggled from his seat, seeing all sorts of funny expressions crossing Sanada's face.

What he didn't expect was to see Sanada bite his lip before slowly making his way in Yukimura's direction, pushing a pile of towels further away to give him enough room to sink down on his knees, right in between Yukimura's legs.

"Sanada-san?" Yukimura's eyes widened at the pose, looking down to see Sanada's glassy eyes. Surely Sanada was not really going to…? "I was only joking, Sanada-san. You don't have to do this."

"No, I-I want to try. I mean, I think I can at least…" Sanada's sentence trailed off. His broad hands came up and settled themselves on Yukimura's waist.

Yukimura said nothing, his mouth gone dry. He sat down with his legs spread, waiting to see what Sanada would do. He could feel the taller man's hands unbuckling his belt, slowly. Sanada's hands were trembling as he lowered the material of the pants and underwear down inch by inch.

Before they could go down too far, Yukimura's hands reached out and held Sanada's hands steady. As arousing as the sight was, expecting an inexperienced Sanada to take such a huge leap when he was clearly uncomfortable with it was a different story entirely.

"You're shaking." whispered Yukimura.

"It's nothing."

Yukimura smiled down at him. "Nice try. I almost believed you for a second." His fingers plucked at Sanada's shoulder, patting the spot on the couch next to him with his other hand. "Come sit next to me."

"But…" Sanada appeared conflicted, his fingers clenching on Yukimura's pants.

"You'll have plenty of time for that at a later time, Sanada-san." Yukimura smoothed out the worry lines on Sanada's forehead. "Come here," he repeated. "We'll do something much more fun and enjoyable for the both of us."

Sanada didn't dwell on it for much longer, obeying Yukimura's soft-spoken words like a well-trained dog. He sat next to Yukimura on the couch, trying not to feel bad about having been too nervous to even manage to shove down Yukimura's pants properly. He wiped his sweaty palms on the couch, taking a deep breath to calm his thumping heartbeat.

The gulp of air proved to be useless when the next thing he knew, he found himself being pushed back, lying down so that his upper back met the armrest at the end of the sofa. Yukimura smiled devilishly down at him, easily undoing the button of Sanada's pants and unzipping them, easing both the pants and boxers down those muscular legs with a small mutter of "We can't have another pair getting dirty now, can we?"

Sanada said nothing, not sure if his voice was even working. He lifted his hips, letting Yukimura toss the garments off to the side.

"My, this hard already, Sanada-san?" said Yukimura, chuckling darkly. His palm slid up Sanada's inner thigh then went in to cup the hard heated flesh. "Looks like nervous was not the only thing you were feeling."

Sanada's nearly let a moan escape his throat. Yukimura's hand didn't linger, stopping abruptly. Yukimura sat back between Sanada's parted legs. Sanada stopped breathing when Yukimura finished the job of fully pulling down his own clothes, tossing the dark pants and belt off to the floor.

Sanada knew he was staring. He did a double-take… no, more like a quadruple-take, his eyes unable to tear away from staring at Yukimura in his half-naked glory. Yukimura was half hard as well, his cock glistening at the tip and coloured in a light pink shade that matched his flushed cheeks. Yukimura shifted forward.

"I'll get shy too if you stare at me like that, Sanada-san." said Yukimura. He lined up his body on top of Sanada's, letting their clothed chests touch and feeling the buttons on their shirt digging back into their skin. They both let out drawn-out groans when their heated members touched, sliding and rubbing together. This was just about the only position they could manage on such a small couch.

Yukimura buckled his hips, pushing forward. "I trust I don't have to tell you what to do, Sanada-san?" he breathed out next to Sanada's ear. The ear flushed a pretty red hue. Sanada guessed what Yukimura was getting at and he nodded.

Sanada reached between them and took both of their members in his grip. He began stroking, slowly and languidly as to not cause any discomfort. Yukimura purred, making delighted noises in the back of his throat. The bluenette stuck his tongue out and licked along Sanada's neck as the raven haired man continued his ministrations.

It wasn't too hard to figure out, thought Sanada. The only difference this had to masturbation was the fact that he now had two cocks in his hand instead of one. The anatomy was the same and Sanada made sure to touch Yukimura in all the same places he liked; caressing the underside, paying plenty of attention along the head and digging a finger into the slit.

"Ah! Sana- _god_, yes." Yukimura said hoarsely, his hot breath pouring over Sanada's neck. His hips began moving, grinding down against Sanada, seeking more from those strong calloused hands. Sanada repeated the motion, stroking his thumb along the sensitive head of Yukimura's cock and then dipping down for a pump.

Having Yukimura shaking in pleasure right above him was better than any previous fantasy. Sanada could see those glazed eyes and feel just how hard and wet Yukimura was becoming. The pre-come oozed out of both of them, mixing together and making a nice lubricant that allowed for stronger strokes, quickening the pace.

It didn't take long for Yukimura to notice that Sanada's attention was devoted only to Yukimura's pleasure, not his own. The bluenette then lowered his own hand, his fingers meeting Sanada's before he firmly took hold of Sanada's cock.

"I shouldn't be the only one having all the fun." said Yukimura, taking up Sanada's pace as they jerked each other off. While Sanada focused more on the tip, moving the foreskin up and down and gliding his fingers along the most sensitive parts of the glans, Yukimura ventured lower. The bluenette's slim hands roamed down to the base of Sanada's cock, earning himself a delicious moan from the taller man. Yukimura played with Sanada's balls, fondling their weight in his palms. Then Yukimura slid even further, touching the sensitive skin behind the balls.

Sanada jerked, his mouth open in a gasp. "A-Ah! Yuki… mura… _ahh_." He moaned again when Yukimura repeated the movement, his fingers making circular motions along skin Sanada never normally touched.

"Is it good, Sanada-san?" asked Yukimura. His other hand went back to the dripping length, massaging it up and down. Sanada's hand had stopped moving on Yukimura's cock as he looked close to losing himself.

Sanada was helpless to do anything but heave air in and out of his lungs, moaning at the merciless assaults of pleasure on his body.

"I like it here." murmured Yukimura, pressing back on the skin behind Sanada's balls again. He smiled against Sanada's damp neck. "Isn't it nice?"

Sanada's back arched. "No, I-I'm...mmm… _AH_!" he shouted when it suddenly became too much. His cock jerked and spurted out in waves, all his muscles tightening, toes curling in pleasure and then releasing in one of the most intense orgasms he had ever experienced. It was earth shattering, making him feeling like he was floating in heaven.

When the ripples of his pleasure subsided, he grew dimly aware of Yukimura still being on top of him and now practically humping his leg in a desperate effort to reach his peak as well. Sanada lent a helping hand in a literal sense, resuming his long strokes and focusing his gaze on Yukimura's face, head pulled back in pleasure. Yukimura reached his pinnacle after a final glide of Sanada's hand, trembling helplessly as his semen dirtied Sanada's leg in quick spurts and his voice a wanton moan, music to Sanada's ears.

They were both still dripping; their stomach, thighs and shirts dirty with release. Yukimura took much faster to recover, patting Sanada's cheek affectionately.

Sanada hugged him close, not caring about the sperm coating the skin between them. He buried his nose in the sweet aroma of Yukimura's hair. "I'm sorry I couldn't fully repay the favour." said Sanada, referring to the fact that he had both come before Yukimura and that he had not used his mouth to please the bluenette as he had originally planned to.

"Mm, I'm satisfied." said Yukimura. "For a newbie, you're not half bad. I look forward to exploring more of you. " His hand moved up, under Sanada's shirt, feeling the toned muscles and petting them with gentle fingers.

"I… I'm glad to please you, Yukimura-san." said Sanada. The raven-haired man looked absolutely adorable with his flushed cheeks, dishevelled hair and missing pants. The slightly happy yet still unsure expression on his face made it all the better. Sanada's movements were always hesitant, as if he was afraid of hurting Yukimura or doing something he wouldn't like.

Yukimura smiled, smoothing his palm along Sanada's cheek. "You don't have to be so hesitant to touch me, Sanada-san." he said.

"Ah…" mumbled Sanada. It was almost funny how such a tall and otherwise intimidating man had such an innocent flair when it came to sexual gratification with another individual.

They remained like that for a while more, basking in the afterglow on the small lumpy couch, but still enjoying their skin-to-skin contact. It wasn't until Yukimura looked up at the clock and realized what time it was that he jumped up in a panic, realizing that the club would open soon and he was nowhere near ready.

Yukimura rushed around the room, picking up his pants and hopping back into them, getting a new shirt that wasn't dirty and fixing up his tie. Sanada said nothing, working himself out of his comfortable position and also putting his pants back on. He snatched back his abandoned cap, staying out of Yukimura's way. The blue haired dancer re-tied his hair so that loose strands were back in place, only a few short hairs escaping and sitting along the sides of his cheeks. For final touches, Yukimura put on a matching vest over his white shirt and even went as far as adding slim glasses over his eyes.

Yukimura did a little twirl, looking back at Sanada. "Well? Do I look presentable?" he asked.

"You look…" Sanada paused, trying to think of an appropriate word. Yukimura was definitely dressed in a school uniform, one that looked tight and uncomfortable, smoothed out with no wrinkles. The glasses gave him a studious air. "…Nice. You look nice." he finished.

"Let me rephrase then." said Yukimura. "Do I look like a super strict student president?"

"I… guess?" said Sanada, clueless. "But why is everyone wearing a school uniform today?"

"We have different theme nights." explained Yukimura. "We can't always be dressed in the same way. That would get boring. So we dress up, role-play a bit too and have a bit of fun. As you can see, today's theme was high school uniforms. I got the part of the strict and uptight student president."

"Ah, I see." said Sanada, finally understanding. "I guess you do look like a student president… except for your hair. I expect the model perfect student wouldn't have long hair like you."

Yukimura grimaced, pushing his glasses back up. "Yeah, that's why I didn't want this part. My hair just doesn't match and these clothes are suffocating. I wanted to be the student delinquent so that I could have a loose tie, but Zaizen immediately got the part."

"Um well… at least your clothes will be coming off… right?" said Sanada awkwardly.

Yukimura giggled. "Right. Once the night really gets going, then I will finally be able to take his wretched tie off. In the meantime…" Yukimura prowled closer, a wicked smile on his face. He placed his palm on Sanada's chest, pushing the taller man back until his back met the door. Then Yukimura placed one knee between Sanada's legs, pushing up and lightly stroking.

"You've been naughty lately, Sanada-san." said Yukimura, tone husky and eyes gleaming behind those glasses. "Skipping classes to come see me… perhaps you need some time in detention_._" Sanada groaned and Yukimura took the chance to nip at his earlobe, letting his tongue play with it. "Don't worry, I'll make sure to properly _discipline_ you."

Sanada moaned at the voice Yukimura was using on him. Yukimura definitely wasn't a strict president… no, this man was a master seductress who knew exactly where to push the right buttons. Those slim fingers were pressing down along his shirt, right on his nipples.

"Ah, w-wait Yukim- _ahh_ you can't-" That knee pressed up sharply, rubbing against his crotch and Sanada could feel the stir of arousal heating his cock again. "_Oh…_ wait, please stop." Yukimura smirked, merciless in his attacks.

Sanada managed to get his hands to stop Yukimura's movement. He breathed loudly getting Yukimura to step back. The stripper giggled. "My, how lovely. Sanada-san, you get excited so easily. Was my performance really that convincing?" said Yukimura. "You're so cute."

Sanada's face burned. Damn, why did he get aroused just from Yukimura's light touches? It was so embarrassing and no, he was_ totally not cute_. But more importantly…

"Yukimura-san, you're not actually going to do that to your clients… right?" said Sanada, panting to regain his breath. Once again, he was forced to recall Yukimura's profession, noting how Yukimura had called it a performance. Sanada dearly hoped that Yukimura wasn't really this… seductive in his performances with other men.

Yukimura raised an eyebrow at the question, starring back coolly. He had expected another blush and stutter, not such a comment.

"And what does it matter if I do?" asked Yukimura. "I have a job to do."

"Yes, but…" Sanada paused, hesitating about what to say. "I mean, some things are okay but going this far with a customer is a little…" The thought didn't settle well with Sanada, making him feel jealousy in the pit of his stomach.

"Hmm? And what do you think you were only a few nights ago?" Yukimura asked. "You may be my guest now, but you were a customer just the same before." His eyes were set in a frown and Sanada swallowed thickly, knowing he had said something Yukimura didn't like.

Sanada tried again. "Yes I know but-"

"Sanada-san." Yukimura's tone was almost chilling. "I do like you. But let me make this clear: I don't belong to you. I do what I please, whether you like it or not. If you don't agree with me, then you know where the door is."

They were both at a standstill. Sanada would have walked away and left in any other circumstances… but this was Yukimura, the person he was inexplicably and irrationally drawn to. The thought of leaving didn't even cross his mind. His only though was of how he could dissipate Yukimura's sudden irritation. He didn't like the way Yukimura's lips were set tight and his brow crinkled in a frown. Yukimura was so much prettier when he smiled.

"Ah, I suppose it isn't really my business what you do during your work hours." said Sanada, clenching his fist. "I guess I was just hoping that we could… further our relationship. Maybe we can go out sometime and just… go watch a movie or eat together…" Sanada trailed off.

Yukimura's was surprised at what Sanada said. A date? Sanada wanted a date outside of the club's doors? Yukimura swallowed nervously at the offer.

"Perhaps… another time, Sanada-san." said Yukimura. "I don't think that's a good idea right now."

It's happened before. Yukimura knew this was probably going to be like all the other times. The men Yukimura showed interest in were always nice at first, always interested as well... but it would go off in one of two ways. Either the person will go off in the direction of being possessive, not liking that Yukimura's profession was that of an erotic dancer, or they would seek a short-term physical relationship before suddenly leaving and never coming back.

Sure, Sanada was kind now… but already the jealousy was setting in. Yukimura sighed, knowing this entire thing with Sanada couldn't possibly last very long. It never did, hence why Yukimura had stopped seeking any serious commitment a long time ago.

"Then perhaps later?" pressed Sanada. "I really do like you, Yukimura-san. I'm sorry if I made you angry, but I have no intention of leaving." He walked forward and took Yukimura's hands in his, trying to look back into those deep blue eyes and convey how he felt. "Please, do give me a chance. You won't regret it."

Yukimura paused. "…We'll see." he said, clearly appearing to be less of in a good mood.

Sanada approached, giving Yukimura plenty of time to back away if he so wanted. But the dancer remained perfectly still as Sanada's arms wrapped around his torso. Yukimura sighed. Sanada really was warm and comfortable even through all these awful layers of clothes the school uniform had.

The capped man kissed Yukimura's forehead, a sweet brush of lips. "I'm sorry." he murmured. "Please, don't frown. You look so beautiful when you smile."

A tiny smile appeared on Yukimura's face at the compliment. He couldn't remain angry for long, especially not when Sanada was trying so hard, being surprisingly affectionate as he layered Yukimura's forehead, cheeks and jaw with kisses.

"Oh, just kiss me properly already." said Yukimura, a pouting expression on his face but no longer holding any hints of malice.

Sanada exhaled in relief, leaning in to kiss those pouting lips. He went slowly, memorizing the taste and the texture. This time he had the luxury of having Yukimura kissing him back, arms wrapped around his neck and fingers prickling against his scalp. Sanada groaned into Yukimura's mouth. The bluenette nipped and sucked on Sanada's bottom lip then moved back in to deepen the kiss, swallowing Sanada's noises.

Yukimura sighed when he pulled back, looking at his wrinkled clothes and loose hair. Looks like he was doomed to put on an awful performance tonight with the way his hair refused to stay in place and his clothes just crinkled at the slightest touch.

"Now go before you tempt me again." said Yukimura, turning the doorknob of the door and laying it open for Sanada to go through. "I have to get ready."

Sanada blinked. "Me tempt you? You're the one seducing me." he said.

"Either way, my job will be in jeopardy if you stay any longer, Sanada-san." said Yukimura jokingly. "It's surprisingly hard to keep myself under control around someone as adorable as you."

"I am not adorable." argued Sanada.

"Oh, I disagree." Yukimura placed a small peck on Sanada's cheek. "Now go on! Go!" Yukimura pushed Sanada towards the door, looking back at the clock with a worried look. He didn't have much time left to get ready. "I'll be seeing you later, I trust?"

Sanada stopped suddenly, right before he could walk out the door. He wasn't budging even when Yukimura began pushing at his back again. "Sanada-san?"

"Yukimura-san…" Sanada turned his head, looking down as if ashamed of something.

"What is it?" asked Yukimura, worried that something was very wrong.

"I…" Sanada turned back, pointing at his button-up shirt. Right in the middle of the material was dried up white, easily identifiable when Yukimura remembered what they had been doing just before, on the couch. Sanada flushed. "I-I think I'm going to need to borrow a shirt."

Yukimura threw his head back and laughed. Really, Sanada was hopeless, doomed to forever dirty his clothes in his own seed.

"Oh, fine." Yukimura pulled Sanada back in the changing room and moved to his dresser. "But next time you come, do bring a spare set of clothes before you empty out my entire wardrobe."

**~o~o~o~**


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: The Imperial Palace Chapter 4. **

**Setting: Strip Club AU.**

**Rating: No really guys, I wrote a real sex scene this time, no joke. D: **

**Reason: Everyone loves Platinum Pair. Do not doubt me because I am on the internet and _the internet is never wrong okay_.**

**Pairing: Platinum Pair. Not much else this time. **

**Warnings: Uncreative content, possible OOC-ness, oh god Niou you slut, matrimonial commitments, alcohol, etc. **

**Disclaimer: Konomi-sensei is the tennis god. **

**~o~o~o~**

* * *

><p>Fuck fuck <em>fuck<em>, he was so screwed.

Niou looked down at his empty wallet with disdain plain on his face. He was so broke. Niou sighed, leaning back against the brick wall of some building. A few people walking by paused and stared at him, a young man expressing obvious distress in the middle of the street.

Just great, thought Niou. This meant he would either have to go visit his parents for supper or hope Sanada and Yanagi would let him into their dorm so that Niou could secretly eat their food. Waiting a few more days for the end of the month to come and bring his monthly allowance was too long of a wait. Niou knew he shouldn't have bought those new headphones and those concert tickets and gone out clubbing every other night, but the life of a college student was meant to be enjoyed! Unfortunately, enjoyment apparently cost too much money.

Niou only now wished that he hadn't gotten fired from his last part-time job. Really, all he had done was impersonate the manager and then proceed to give raises to all the employees; totally not a big deal. That manager had no sense of humour at all.

And now here he was, a money-less and jobless student with nothing to do. The sun had finally set after a long day of trudging along sidewalks and streets, looking for something to do so that he could avoid staying indoors and studying all day like he was supposed to be doing. He found himself walking along familiar streets, with its concrete surface dirty with dried up gum and illuminated with streetlamps. He always found himself roaming this area since it was always the most alive at night with nightclubs and bars decorating every direction. Niou frequented this street far too often and it showed. Other people, guys and girls, waved at him on the street. Niou smiled back but didn't chat with any of them. They were all like him: young adults who liked to party without a care in the world. Niou may have danced with some of them, shared drinks with others or woken up one morning in their company, but most were nothing more than recognizable faces. Niou barely knew the names of any of the passer-bys who waved at him.

"Hey Masaharu!" Niou turned, seeing a middle-aged woman dressed like she was a teenager calling out to him from an open entrance. "You coming in tonight, babe?"

Niou shook his head. "Sorry Hanamura-san. I'm broke today." he replied. Hanamura was the manager of one of the most popular dance clubs on this street. Although Niou loved it there for the great music and energy, entrance came with a fee and the place boosted the most expensive prices imaginable.

Instead, Niou walked right past most places, not planning on spending money he didn't have. He felt rather hopeless, knowing he had nothing else to do other than go home and write that research paper that was due last week. The next few days were going to be hell. He was going to have to rely on Yanagi's fridge for food and flirt with people at clubs to get himself some drinks.

He was about to cross the street and make his way home when he caught sight of a familiar-looking man walking off a little bit ahead. Niou stopped and stared at the man in the business suit who obviously did not seem like he belonged in a place filled with young students in bright revealing clothes. Niou recalled thinking the exact same thing back when Niou had first seen the man, Yagyuu, if he remembered correctly.

Ah, that's right. Niou remembered it more clearly now. It had been only a few weeks ago, on Valentine's day, that Niou had met Yagyuu at that popular strip club. More specifically, Niou remembered doing more kissing than talking. Not that he had minded because he remembered that Yagyuu was quite an exceptional kisser. Niou hadn't seen the brown-haired man since Valentine's day, when Niou had forced Sanada and Yanagi to come with him to that strip club.

Now, Yagyuu was threading carefully forward and stopping in front of the wide doors that led inside the very same strip club as last time, the Imperial Palace. Niou watched with amusement as Yagyuu paused, looking around as if making sure no one was paying attention to him before entering the large building.

Niou grinned. Perfect. The Imperial Palace didn't charge for entry. And Niou specifically remembered that he had bought Yagyuu a drink on Valentine's day. In other words, Yagyuu owed him. The silver-haired young man strutted off in the direction of the Imperial Palace, barely flashing his ID in the security guard's face before entering.

The place looked the same as the last time Niou had been there, except that there was much less people then there had been on Valentine's Day. Niou remained in the doorway, scanning the large area in search of the person he was looking for. The music was loud and upbeat and the people that were here were having the time of their lives on the dance floor.

Yagyuu was not on the dance floor, as Niou had expected. Yagyuu didn't seem like the type to dance much. A stripper on the dance floor did catch Niou's attention though. The erotic dancer was a black-haired young man with many piercings on his ears and a torso that was bare save for a small tattoo on his side. Niou licked his dry lips. If he had money right now, he'd definitely pay to have a dance with that guy.

The black-haired stripper left the dance area a minute later, stuffing money bills into his pocket and pulling out a cellphone from his other pocket. He leaned against the wall and began furiously texting.

"Hey, what's your name?" said Niou, approaching the dancer and using his low seductive tone.

The black-haired man didn't even look up from his phone screen. "Zaizen, or at least that's my stage name." he said, sounding completely bored. "And I'm on break so you can fuck off."

Well wasn't Zaizen just a big bucket of sunshine, thought Niou sarcastically. He rolled his eyes, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Zaizen kept on texting, sighing and rolling his eyes at whatever he was reading on his phone screen.

Niou knew it would do no good to hit on the dancers today when he had no money to even spend on a strip-tease. The strippers were probably all used to constant flirting from their customers so Niou knew a lost battle when he saw one. But that didn't stop Niou from admiring the eye-candy that was presented to him. There were a few other erotic dancers within his sight, three of them.

One was a shorter lithe brunette who already had a small crowd of people lining up for a chance to dance with him. Niou could see why. The brunette moved in such a mesmerizing way and was very gorgeous. He probably cost a fortune. A second dancer was off to the side, talking to a customer at the table. That one was skinny with a rather strange haircut: dark red hair with bangs that formed a V-shape on his forehead. That guy wasn't Niou's type so he simply skimmed over him.

The final dancer in the room was one Niou recognized all too well and heard about too often from Sanada. The blue-haired stripper was Yukimura, and although he was pretty, Niou still wanted to live so he didn't even consider approaching what was "_Sanada's property_". Yukimura was Sanada's boyfriend… or rather, that's what Sanada seemed to think. Niou knew Sanada visited the bluenette often but Niou was pretty certain that they had never gone out on a real date before. Either way, Niou was not going to break Sanada's fantasy in fear of being slapped senseless.

After that unsatisfying look around, Niou resumed his initial mission and went back to searching the area for the brown-haired businessman.

He found Yagyuu seated at the bar, nursing a glass of wine. Niou pursed his lips at the sight of Yagyuu sitting with his wrinkle-less suit and his crossed legs. What kind of person even drinks regular wine at a strip joint? Really, Yagyuu should be ordering a cocktail or a few shots, not be drinking wine like he was at some important dinner party. And that tie looked far too tight around his neck to be comfortable.

Anyways, it wasn't like it mattered right now. Niou shoved himself forward, advancing towards the seated man. Yagyuu's head didn't move, not noticing Niou until the silver-haired man spoke up at a close proximity.

"Mind if I sit?" said Niou, startling Yagyuu. The bespectacled man jolted, his hand nearly toppling his glass over when he saw Niou standing at such a small distance from him. Niou smirked a crooked grin and sat down next to Yagyuu without waiting for permission. "Fancy seeing you here again. Are you a regular?"

Yagyuu's eyes looked down at his hands. It took a few seconds for him to speak. "Not… exactly." he said hesitantly. He didn't look all that comfortable with Niou here and the silver-haired young man noticed immediately. Niou wondered why Yagyuu was being less welcoming now, especially after they had had such good chemistry last time.

Although Yagyuu did have quite a bit to drink the first time they met so…

"You do remember me, right?" said Niou, asking just to make sure. Surely Yagyuu hadn't been that drunk on Valentine's Day to forget everything.

"Of course I do." said Yagyuu.

"Then why the stone cold looks?" asked Niou. He assumed Yagyuu was usually viewed as a prim and proper gentleman who didn't usually go out and get drunk too often, so perhaps that was the issue. "Relax, I'm not going to tell the world that we made-out one night and ruin your reputation or whatever."

"That's not it, Niou-kun." said Yagyuu.

"Yeah? You know, I'm cool with anything. If you want, I'd love to buy you another drink so we can party like last time... but I'm a little short on money right now." said Niou, a wolfish grin on his face, starring at Yagyuu up and down. He leaned closer. "But I say a drink is not necessary. You still look damn attractive, Yeahgyuu. And what I remember the most about you is how much of a good kisser you are."

Niou was interrupted when Yagyuu hauled up his left hand, practically shoving it in Niou's face. A bright silver band shined from Yagyuu's finger.

"Niou-kun, I'm married." said Yagyuu.

Niou blinked. There was a short pause after which Niou gave a short laugh. "Ah, all the good men are taken. I should've figured." he said. He put up his hand, signalling the barkeeper and ordering himself some rum and coke, putting it on Yagyuu's tab. He drained the glass in one long shot the moment it appeared before him. "Well, this is a new way to get rejected."

Yagyuu remained silent, playing with the ring on his finger, rolling it back and forth.

"I don't recall seeing that ring last time I saw you." said Niou.

Yagyuu froze. "Yes. This is a little embarrassing for me to admit but…" Yagyuu drew in a breath, maintaining his composure. "That other night was a spur of the moment thing… I was upset and drank too much."

Yagyuu's personal life was none of Niou's business, but the silver-haired man couldn't help but be interested.

"So I'm guessing this wife of yours doesn't know anything?" said Niou.

Yagyuu nodded gravely, clearly feeling guilt over what he had done. "I don't think telling her is an option."

"Why? Is it because you kissed someone else or because the person you did the kissing with is a guy?"

"Both." said Yagyuu. "Kissing a person of the same sex is… a relatively new concept to me." he admitted.

"Ah, aren't you the kinky one?" chuckled Niou. "A serious businessman with a stable job and a wife having a secret affair with a man. How shocking."

"Don't call it an affair. It was a one time thing." said Yagyuu in a hard voice. "I've been married for nearly three years now. That… that lapse was a mistake."

Niou exhaled loudly, wishing he had enough money for more booze. He settled in silence for a bit, watching the center stage. The dancer, the brunette, ripped his pants off, showing off skin tight boxer briefs clinging to firm thighs. It was hot.

Next to him, Yagyuu's finger was circling along the rim of his glass, a monotone clockwise motion.

"Can you answer me one thing, Yagyuu?" said Niou suddenly. Yagyuu's head gave the slightest shake, showing that he was listening. "Why are you coming back here?"

Yagyuu's whole body went frigid. "T-That's… this place is on my way back from work. For convenience I suppose." Yagyuu stuttered, not meeting Niou's eyes.

"Hm… but there are many other dance bars around. The street is full of them." said Niou. "Why come to this one, a gay strip club, of all places? Aren't you _married_?"

Yagyuu shot Niou a dark look upon having his excuse flung right back and used against him.

Niou shot Yagyuu a lopsided grin, leaning in. Yagyuu didn't push him away when he whispered, "Were you hoping to meet me again if you kept coming back, Yagyuu?"

"Stop. That's not… I wasn't…"

"Then you have no right to be rejecting me with such an excuse after having already kissed me last time." said Niou. "Either you like me or you don't. Leave your so-called wife out of this."

Niou gave in and ordered a beer. At least he had the grace to order himself the cheapest beer available, since Yagyuu would be paying. Niou drank it in heavy swallows. He was surprised. Yagyuu wasn't leaving like Niou had expected him to.

But still… married, huh? That was a bummer. But even so, it didn't explain why Yagyuu had showed up here in the first place. Niou decided to try again, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"So why did you even show up in a gay strip club in the first place if you were married?" asked Niou, pressing Yagyuu further.

Yagyuu was silent yet again. Niou took another sip, letting the liquid run down his throat. He didn't expect an answer and was very surprised when Yagyuu spoke up.

"We had a fight." said Yagyuu.

"Hm… well it happens I guess." shrugged Niou. "All couples fight, right?"

A pause. "She said she wanted us to separate… that day, on Valentine's day." said Yagyuu. He didn't know why he was telling Niou all this. Niou was a stranger. But Yagyuu hadn't told a single soul yet, too concerned with his reputation to even mention it to the people he thought of as his friends. He found himself wanting to let it out, to get the heavy load off his back. "I… I don't know what I was thinking. I ended up here, drinking and kissing you as a form of revenge."

"Sucks." said Niou. He offered his beer to Yagyuu and was even more surprised when the gentlemanly man took it and gulped the rest down in one shot.

"I just don't understand how things have gotten to this point." growled Yagyuu, slamming the empty beer bottle down on the counter. "I thought I loved her. Now I just feel betrayed."

"Happens. The magic wears out." said Niou, shrugging. "Maybe you just gotta win her back. Be spontaneous." Giving advice to Yagyuu like this felt strange, especially since they had only met once before to practically snog each other all night long.

Yagyuu let out a humourless laugh. "Spontaneous?" he said. He bitterly remembered trying to talk it out with his wife after she had first announced she wanted to separate. The reminder of hearing _'this isn't working out'_ and _'I can't keep on doing this' _felt like knives being stabbed back into already open wounds. She said she hated how Yagyuu was a workaholic, that he was always the perfect gentleman, never showing his emotions, not being _'spontaneous'_ enough. The memory made Yagyuu's stomach churn with feelings of anger and rejection.

Fine. His wife wanted spontaneous, then Yagyuu would go out and be spontaneous.

Niou was still slouching on his chair, his chin on his propped up palm. Niou was the complete opposite of the types of people Yagyuu normally affiliated with, but that's what made him so perfect for this.

When Niou opened his mouth again, maybe to talk or yawn, Yagyuu leaned in forward and caught Niou's cheek in his palm, twisting his head around at the right angle to shove his tongue directly into Niou's mouth.

"Mm!" Niou made a surprised noise in the back of his throat. Yagyuu didn't let it faze him. He continued, stroking his tongue deeper and tasting the tangy aroma of beer sliding on both their tongues.

Yagyuu coaxed Niou's lips to respond, which they did after the initial shock had worn off. Yagyuu fisted the bleached white hair, tugging it to press them closer.

They pulled apart with a slick popping sound. Niou raised an eyebrow, seeming unfazed as if people spontaneously kissing him was an everyday occurence. "Whatever happened to you having a wife?" asked Niou. His tongue darted out, licking at his bottom lip.

Yagyuu shook his head, pressing them together again. "Having a partner who no longer wishes to be with you makes the circumstances completely different." he murmured against Niou's lips. It was about time he did something he wanted, consequences be damned.

"Hm, is that so?" said Niou casually. "I apologize for asking then." Regardless of the reason, Niou wasn't about to protest. Especially not when Yagyuu's surprisingly soft lips were sucking at his mouth, tongue flirting with his in a sensual dance.

Yagyuu felt a flare of confidence shoot through him at the lack of rejection. That and something else... _desire_, pulsing through his veins. It was addictive and Yagyuu was reminded of how long it had been since he had gotten close to another person in such an intimate way. When was the last time he had given in to his urges and lost control in a typhoon of passion? Yagyuu couldn't even remember anymore. What he did know was that Niou was here, soft and willing and delicious.

"Do you… want to go elsewhere?" asked Yagyuu, panting. "Somewhere more private?"

"Mm, there is a love hotel down the street." mumbled Niou. He too appeared intoxicated, seeking more than s few rushed kisses at a bar. He was more than curious as to how delicious Yagyuu would be in the bedroom.

"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of my apartment." said Yagyuu. "It's close by."

Niou pulled back, looking a little surprised at the suggestion. "Won't your spouse be there?"

"She's back at the house, several miles away. I couldn't keep on sleeping on my living room couch every night so I rented myself an apartment a few weeks ago." Yagyuu explained. Living in the same house as his wife just meant more fights at this point. But it was only now that Yagyuu was grateful for having rented that apartment, for the sake of its current convenience.

"Ah, so you got yourself a little bachelor pad… that's always the best way to shake off a past relationship." said Niou. He grinned. Apartments meant food. And good sex for desert. Perfect. "Sure, I'll come along. I assume you have the necessities up there?"

Yagyuu was silent. Necessities…? It took him a few seconds to realize what Niou was implying. He shook his head no, the barest of blush lighting up his cheeks.

Niou sighed. "Or we can always stop by the drug store and buy condoms on our way." he said. It wasn't the sexiest alternative, but it would do. And maybe he could get Yagyuu to buy him some candy bars while they were there. "You're paying though." Niou stressed the Yagyuu paying part.

"Let's go then." said Yagyuu, picking up his jacket. Yagyuu paid his bill and was soon on his way out. Niou followed him out of the club and into the cold illuminated streets of the city.

**~o~o~o~**

Yagyuu bought Niou only one chocolate bar at the store, much to the latter's disappointment. The sugary snack was inside the plastic bag along with the box of condoms and a bottle of lotion that would serve well as lube, as Niou knew all too well from experience.

Yagyuu led Niou to a tall and neat apartment building in the middle-class section of town. It wasn't run down or old like Niou's living quarters next to the community college. It appeared even nicer than Sanada and Yanagi's fancy university dorm. Yagyuu must be making a pretty damn good salary to have a house with his wife and still be able to afford himself an apartment to the side. For the first time, Niou wondered what Yagyuu really did for a living and how old he was. Niou had simply assumed Yagyuu was a businessman in his early thirties based on looks alone.

They walked up four flights of stairs to reach Yagyuu's floor. Their shoes clanked on the polished floor with every step, echoing up the empty staircase.

"Here we are." said Yagyuu, clinking the door open with a twist of his key. Niou followed Yagyuu's example and took off his shoes before entering.

The place was neat, much cleaner than should be allowed for a man living by himself. Judging by Yagyuu's own clean cut appearance, Niou was willing to bet that Yagyuu was a perfectionist and the type to prefer order over messy disarray.

"Nice place." said Niou. The coffee table had coasters and the bookshelves were loaded in thick books with hardcovers. It was too clean. Niou's eye twitched.

"Thank you." said Yagyuu. He tapped his fingers against his hip, wondering what to do next. After all, it wasn't like Yagyuu had ever done such a thing before. The concept of inviting someone over to his place when they weren't even dating was not at all known to him. He wondered if he could be as blunt as to show Niou the bedroom or if he should be a good host and offer tea beforehand.

Instead of hovering around pointlessly, Niou crossed behind the sofa, his eyes looking around the dim apartment with interest. He seemed completely at ease, touching a fancy painting, running a finger along a vase, and trailing a hand on the wooden counter where there only lay a lamp and a framed picture

Niou paused in his steps, picking up the framed picture. The picture was of Yagyuu with a woman on his side and small boy in front of them in what was a traditional-looking family portrait: filled with nice fancy clothes and fake smiles all around.

The woman on Yagyuu's side, whom Niou assumed was the wife, was rather plain-looking. She had brown hair and brown eyes and wore a brown dress. And really, Niou couldn't make out that much else about her other than the fact that she appeared uninteresting. Niou then turned his attention to the little boy in front of Yagyuu and his wife. He was maybe about three or four years old if Niou were to guess. The little boy could only be described as a baby version of Yagyuu, with the identical straight hair and the same facial features. The only thing missing were glasses, then there would be a mini-Yagyuu in the picture.

"That's my son. He's three years old now." said Yagyuu. He stood next to Niou and gazed down at the picture. His eyes softened when looking at his son.

"Damn, he looks just like you." said Niou

Yagyuu chuckled. "Yes, so I've heard."

Yagyuu's gaze then travelled up and stopped at his spouse's face. Yagyuu's eyes hardened for a second before he closed them and sighed. His son was the main reason this separation was not escalating to a full-out divorce. That and the fact that neither Yagyuu nor his wife wanted people to start talking about them and their failed marriage. But in all honesty, Yagyuu knew it would be just a matter of time before people caught on to the fact that he was rarely at home anymore, only coming in on weekends to visit his son and then leaving when the boy went to sleep because that was when he and his wife had the tendency to argue.

"So you're basically the hottest dad I've ever met." said Niou, oblivious to Yagyuu's melancholic remembrance. He grinned. "Congratulations."

Yagyuu raised an eyebrow, unsure if that was a compliment or not. Either way, Yagyuu took the frame out of Niou's hand, laying it face down. He remembered the reason he had brought Niou over and it certainly had not been to look at family pictures while Yagyuu wallowed in his self-pity.

"Shall I show you the rest of my home?" said Yagyuu, hoping he didn't sound too imposing. His arm snaked its way around Niou's waist.

"You sure that's what you want?" asked Niou. He pointed to the picture, serious for the first time since Yagyuu had met him. "You sure you won't regret it in the morning?"

Yagyuu growled, pushing his head in and kissing Niou fiercely on the mouth. "I know what I want." he hissed sharply, nipping at Niou's lips. His mouth ran up to Niou's earlobe, taking it into his mouth and sucking on it.

Niou drew in a shaky breath. He had to admit… Yagyuu was a pretty convincing kisser. Not to mention how sexy it was that someone as perfect-looking and neat as Yagyuu was showing an unexpectedly feral side of himself.

Niou's finger went to Yagyuu's tie, loosening it. "Then I think a tour is in order."

Yagyuu led Niou to a smaller room that was just as neat and proper as the rest of the apartment. There were clothes and ties neatly folded on the chair and the center bed was made perfectly without any wrinkles on the lining. Niou itched with the sudden urge to mess up that bed, to jump on it and erase its flawless covers.

Niou resisted. It wasn't like the covers wouldn't be messy soon anyways.

Suddenly impatient to get started, Niou pulled his shirt off over his head and threw it haphazardly to the floor. He grinned at the thought that he was messing up the neat room. His challenging gaze invited Yagyuu to do that same. The gentleman shot Niou a look before he took off his jacket. Yagyuu actually went as far as to hang it up in his wardrobe prior to proceeding with all his other layers.

Niou was fully bare by the time Yagyuu had finished revealing his upper body, displaying a pleasingly solid back to Niou. He ran his hands up to Yagyuu's shoulder, feeling the muscles shifting under the supple skin.

"You wear too many layers." said Niou. He made the point of pressing the line of his body against Yagyuu's. He wanted to get started _now_. Folding clothes were hardly the priority. "Pick them up afterwards." he growled, pulling on Yagyuu's arm insistently.

Yagyuu turned his head, observing the naked man. He allowed himself to look at the silver-haired man thoroughly, raking his eyes up and down Niou's figure. Niou was skinny and his chest and hips were flat, not curved and full like a woman's. When Yagyuu touched him, the skin wasn't as soft either. Yagyuu could feel prickles of body hair and patches of dry skin in some places.

Niou kissed him, long and hard. It succeeded in pushing Yagyuu backwards, shifting them both in the direction of the bed. Yagyuu's knees touched the edge and he fell back on the mattress. Niou continued sucking on Yagyuu's tongue, manoeuvring himself so that he was above Yagyuu, straddling him. Yagyuu squirmed, unused to receiving such lucid attention. Niou's tongue flicked down his neck, sucking on his collarbone. Slim fingers roamed lower, finding erect nipples and fondling them with expertise. Yagyuu muffled a groan. Niou touched and licked his skin, rubbing new places that Yagyuu didn't know could feel this good.

"H-aah… Ni…ou-kun…" Yagyuu wriggled. God, that tongue. The way it rolled and flicked his skin and sucked on his nipples was magical. He felt the wet muscle working its magic, caressing the skin around his nub before sinking in and letting the suction render him speechless.

There were marks and hickeys layering his body but Yagyuu couldn't seem to get himself to care at the moment. He expressed his pleasure in forms of various moans and gasps. It had been so long since he had had any sexual gratification. He didn't realized just how badly he had needed this… He needed to feel someone else's body pressed against his, he needed this hot relief of built up stress… he needed _more_.

A moan caught in his throat when Niou's hand reached down and cupped his clothed crotch, pressing back and forth and setting a rhythm that had Yagyuu rocking forward. Niou grabbed Yagyuu's belt, deftly loosening it out of its loops.

Niou's grin was wicked, patting the leather accessory and laying it down on Yagyuu's naked chest. "Have you ever been tied up, Yeahgyuu?" Niou asked idly, fingering the belt, his eyes gleaming.

Yagyuu blinked passed the haze in his mind, shaking his head. His voice no longer seemed interested in working properly.

"It's quite fun." Niou grabbed the belt and tapped the end of it against Yagyuu's stomach. "Would you like to try?"

Yagyuu swallowed thickly. God, why was he so out of breath just from such light touches? "No… thanks…" he panted.

"Hmm…" Niou's only response was a thoughtful hum as he unzipped Yagyuu's pants. Niou pushed the material down and pulled the straining cock free, grasping it firmly. "Let me guess, you're the type who never experimented before, right?" Yagyuu bit down on his bottom lip to stop himself from whimpering. Niou's fingers tugged at his foreskin, moving it up and down for rough friction and exposing the head, blushed red and gleaming at the tip.

"I bet it was the same thing every time you had sex with your wife." said Niou. His tone was so matter-of-factly, as if they were having a casual conversation about the weather. Niou slid his thumb along the leaking tip, fingering the slit. "You probably had sex once a month, scheduling it as if you would schedule a chore."

Yagyuu arched his back, unable to stop the particularly long moan from escaping passed his lips.

"And every time would be identical." continued Niou. His hand pumped up and down, producing slick sounds. "I'm guessing all you had was ordinary sex in the missionary position. You would probably thrust until you came, she would fake an orgasm, and then you would fall asleep. Rinse and repeat."

Yagyuu didn't, or rather couldn't, correct Niou. Partly because the silver-haired man said a lot of truth, but also because Yagyuu was fairly certain he could not form a coherent sentence. Yagyuu pushed his hips up. He was so close and Niou's hand was suddenly too slow.

"But hey, who am I to judge? It just feels like life gets awfully dull once you're married with kids. But that's just me," said Niou. He looked down at Yagyuu's face, sweaty and red from exertion. "Ah, sorry. I'll let you cum, but don't fall asleep after this." he warned. "We're only just getting started."

Niou shifted backwards and leaned down so that his head was level with Yagyuu's crotch. Yagyuu barely had the time to breathe before he felt a hot moist tongue playing with his slit, swirling in lazy circles.

It barely took a few more seconds for him to reach the edge. Yagyuu came, harder than he had in a long time. The sensations of his orgasm washed over him like a wave, lingering in the form of a pleasant light-headed feeling. His ragged breathing filled the room. Niou sat back, licking his finger and regarding Yagyuu with a somewhat smug expression. Yagyuu looked down and saw that Niou was erect, his cock standing upright and proud.

Yagyuu pushed the hesitation out of his system. He reached his hand out, wrapping it around the stiff flesh of the other man.

Niou let him, smiling at Yagyuu's awkward movements. "What, never touched someone else's package before?" he asked. "It's easy." He took hold of Yagyuu's hand and pumped it sharply, his grip firm. "Just like this… it's like masturbating, but with someone else's."

Even so, it still felt strange for Yagyuu to roll someone else's member between his fingers. He let his hands roam, coddling the tender sacs underneath and feeling smooth hairless thighs. Niou was so open and _raw_; he showed exactly what he was feeling through a series of moans and heated whispers, spreading his legs wider. Yagyuu felt himself taking interest once more, growing more confident in his touches.

He looked at Niou's face, marvelling in the expressions of delight crossing his features. Niou's lips were curved upward, showing hints of teeth, his eyes were of a bright sea foam color and his silvery-white hair was actually quite long in that loose rattail. Niou's very appearance was the pure definition of laidback, like he was just the type to go through life without a worry in the world. Yagyuu envied him for that. He wished he could be a careless college student, not an adult going through divorce talks when he had just turned thirty.

"Where's the bag?" Niou asked.

Yagyuu snapped out of his thoughts. "Ah, I left it in the hall." he said. He moved to get up. "Want me to go get it?"

Niou rolled over off of Yagyuu. "Yeah. And hurry." Niou spread himself over the covers, writhing as his own fingers danced around his swollen erection. "I'm so hard." he moaned wantonly.

Yagyuu swallowed thickly, stumbling over his pants when he stood up. He kicked his pants off his ankles in the hallway and got the bag in a hurry, bringing it back to the bedroom. He settled the lube and condoms on the bed between them.

Niou's eyes darted in Yagyuu's direction, licking at his dry lips. Yagyuu followed the motion and then indulged himself in another kiss, one that was far more heated and desperate than before.

"Mm, anyone ever tell you you're a good kisser?" said Niou. It was a first for Niou to actually envy someone's wife, but damn Yagyuu's wife didn't know what she was missing.

"Thank you." said Yagyuu, still managing to sound polite despite the current circumstances.

Niou's hand curled around Yagyuu's hip, pressing both their naked bodies together. That hand drew circles on Yagyuu's hip, lazy and unhurried. Yagyuu found Niou's pale neck and sucked on it, layering it with nips and kisses.

Suddenly, that hand reached around and squeezed Yagyuu's buttcheek. Yagyuu froze, feeling a finger teasing his crack and toying at his entrance. His muscles clenched and he shifted away from those fingers in an almost automatic response.

Niou chuckled. "Ever done anal, Yeahgyuu?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Yagyuu shook his head, frowning. He made a noise of discomfort when Niou continued stroking the rim of his hole. He attempted to wriggle away, his attempts in vain.

Niou shrugged. "It's no big deal, really." Since it was Yagyuu's first time and he didn't want to scare off the other man too quickly, Niou decided that perhaps he should take the insertee position for today. "Don't worry, I won't pop your cherry if you don't wanna. I'll bottom this time and show you how it's done." said Niou. Yagyuu merely breathed a sigh of relief when Niou's fingers retreated.

Yagyuu watched as Niou twisted around so that he was on his elbows and knees, seeming completely at ease with exposing his bare behind to Yagyuu. The silver-haired man looked back at Yagyuu expectantly, pointing at the tube between them. "Well, what are you waiting for?" Niou asked. "Prepare me well."

"Niou-kun, I don't…" Yagyuu looked down at the bottle of lube and then back at the curve of Niou's butt, his eyes darting back and forth between the two. His inexperience manifested itself in hints of uncertainty.

"It's fine, just start with one finger then I'll tell you when you can put more." said Niou, encouraging. But Yagyuu didn't move, still hesitating.

Niou sighed. Guess there was no helping it then. He grabbed the bottle and slickened his own fingers in the moist cream, making sure Yagyuu's full attention was on him. He shifted to the side, showing Yagyuu a perfect view of the puckered hole between his rounded buttcheeks. Yagyuu's breath caught for a second, seeing Niou press his fingers back and slowly nudging one in, penetrating himself.

"Watch how it's done." grunted Niou. His cheek was smothered against the pillow. He let his finger delve in deeper before adding a second, twisting his wrist and stretching himself. He panted, breathless moans escaping his lips. His fingers kept up a rhythm, wet noises sounding in the room as the digits squelched in and out again and again.

He could feel Yagyuu's eyes on him, spreading heat throughout his body as he imagined Yagyuu's lusty eyes taking in the sight. When Niou twisted his head around to really see Yagyuu's expression, he saw that his imagination hadn't been too far off. Yagyuu was definitely being attentive to the show Niou was putting on for him. Yagyuu's hands even reached out to touch Niou's hips, spreading the ass cheeks apart but not interrupting Niou's pattern, merely observing at a closer range. It was at that point that Niou groaned loudly, knowing he was just about ready.

"C-Condom." he gasped. Yagyuu understood and grabbed the small package, ripping it open and rolling it down his aching shaft, hissing lowly as he did so.

"Ahh…!" Niou screamed suddenly and Yagyuu looked up on time to see the cause of it. Niou was pushing three fingers inside himself deeper than ever, twisting his wrist over and over against what must be a good spot. Niou's mouth was open, moaning and hissing and saying _fuck _and _fuck me _over and over. Yagyuu grabbed Niou's wrist, pulling it away. His uncertainty had vanished and transformed into raw desire to thrust inside that tight entrance and to hear Niou moaning for him.

Yagyuu lined himself up until the tip pressed against that twitching hole. He breathed heavily, his hand had the slightest tremble in them as he held Niou's hips in place. "Is this okay?" Yagyuu asked.

Niou nodded, fidgeting in his position. "God, _yes_, hurry."

Yagyuu listened and slowly pressed inside, gasping at the sheer tightness that swallowed him in. He clenched his teeth and stopped when he was a few centimetres in, letting Niou adjust despite how much he wanted to just push in and pound the silver-haired man into the mattress. Yagyuu pushed deeper when Niou grew restless and frantic once more, stopping only when the linings of his ass clenched painfully tight around him. Yagyuu could see sweat dripping on the bed from Niou's forehead. The gentleman leaned in and pressed soft gentle kisses along Niou's shoulders, stroking his lower back and helping Niou relax.

"Does it hurt too much?" asked Yagyuu. "I can pull out if you want." He kept up the gentle caresses and soothing touches, roaming around and touching the solid contour of Niou's chest.

Niou grunted at the treatment, feeling like Yagyuu was handling him like a delicate girl. "I'm fine. Push it in… all in one go."

Yagyuu frowned. His cock twitched. "Are you sure?"

"Do it." hissed Niou.

Yagyuu snapped his hips up, plunging into the sucking heat with a moan of his own. It was so much tighter than he had thought possible, with those inner walls clamping down on him almost painfully. Niou arched and _screamed_, trembling in place. His hands grasped the bed covers, nails digging in deeply.

Yagyuu forced himself to be patient and let Niou adjust, but he couldn't help letting out a groan or two when the heat kept such a tight and scorching hot hold on him. It was too much already. Yagyuu felt ready to lose it. He so wanted to do that, to just thrust out and back in and operate on animalistic instincts alone. He wanted to lose all sense of time and place and forget about everything other than Niou and _god, so good, don't stop._

"Hey, don't cum early." warned Niou in a raspy voice, broken from his scream.

"Of course not." Yagyuu managed to say. He decided that enough time had passed so he carefully slipped himself halfway out. Niou ceased breathing in anticipation. Yagyuu didn't disappoint, pushing back in and once again feeling the tightness envelop him whole in a way that was beyond satisfying. He repeated the motion, slick noises sounding around the room from their lovemaking, in and out, in and out, again and again. Yagyuu's hands gripped Niou's hips with ferocity, holding them as to keep a grasp on his sanity. The ring on Yagyuu's finger dug into Niou's skin. Yagyuu felt sweat gathering up on his forehead and his hair grew messier with every movement.

He hit something that made Niou scream louder than before. Niou's body shook frantically as he moaned out, "Ohh, _there_, again!" Yagyuu obeyed, nudging against the spot that made Niou's wail and moan deliriously. Niou's arms soon gave way so that his upper body was lax on the mattress. Only his hips remained upright with Yagyuu's help. Niou pressed back and tried to meet Yagyuu's increasingly fast pace. He clenched down each time Yagyuu struck his sweet spot, making Yagyuu hiss at the sensation.

"God, faster." moaned Niou. He didn't have to wait more than a second for Yagyuu to oblige. The brown-haired man gave Niou exactly what he wanted, pressing in deeper, harder, faster, spreading him open with every pound.

That rhythm was repeated until the throbbing became unbearable for Yagyuu. The gentleman gave one last thrust before emptying himself, the release being nothing short of mind-blowing. Niou groaned pitifully, sensing Yagyuu's shudders and feeling that spent erection going limp inside him. Yagyuu recomposed himself fast enough to grab hold of Niou's neglected arousal. It only took a few more strokes before he felt hot stickiness gushing onto his hand.

Niou collapsed on the messy covers, trying to regain his breath. His face was smothered against the pillow. Yagyuu used what was left of his energy to roll to the side, chucking the condom into the wastebasket.

For a while, there was only thick breathing in the air along with the sound of frantic heartbeats slowing down. Yagyuu felt dazed, his glasses askew on his nose. Part of him felt shocked at himself for having gone this far. He had actually done it. He had taken a man home from a bar and had what was possibly the best sex he had ever experienced. It felt good. Yagyuu had been afraid to feel guilty or regretful. The adrenaline rushing through his veins said something entirely different. His whole life of forcing himself to be the proper ideal gentleman seemed so long ago. It felt as if he had been reborn into a new person in the last few minutes. This risk, this reckless decision… it made him feel alive.

The covers shuffled. Yagyuu snapped out of his afterglow when he saw Niou moving to get up, looking around for his clothes. As if on instinct, Yagyuu reached out and grabbed the other man's wrist.

"What?" asked Niou. He smirked. "Up for round two?"

"You don't have to leave." said Yagyuu. "This bed is big enough for the both of us."

Niou looked surprised, scratching his head. "You want me to stay?" he asked.

Yagyuu nodded. "I like to take good care of my partners." He lifted the covers, patting the mattress and inviting Niou to lie back down.

The pull of the bed sucked Niou back in. He nodded and lay back down. Yagyuu's hand settled on Niou's side.

"I know this may seem a bit late, but may I know your full name?" Yagyuu had a sheepish smile playing on his lips. "Mine is Yagyuu Hiroshi."

"Niou Masaharu." replied Niou. Yagyuu hummed and leaned in to kiss him. It was a slow and sensual press of lips that left Niou breathless once more. Niou let himself be swept away, unused to basking in the afterglow of sex. It was tranquil and Yagyuu's hands were warm.

"So what are you gonna do now?" asked Niou. He settled himself under the covers. The bed was so soft, so comfortable compared to his futon back at home. "You gonna tell your wife?" He remembered that Yagyuu was new at this and was in a matrimonial commitment with a woman. That might be a problem.

Yagyuu sighed. "I'd rather not think about it at the moment…" he muttered. "For now, I'll just think about what to make for breakfast tomorrow and how I'll apologize to my neighbours for being so loud."

Niou's mouth watered at the thought of a large breakfast. The thought of food pushed everything else out of his mind. "Make it two eggs, toast, bacon, sausages and more bacon." Niou said.

Yagyuu raised an eyebrow at Niou. The silver-haired man was oddly nonchalant and comfortable in the house of someone who was practically a complete stranger. He was even making himself at home already and ordering himself a special menu.

That won't do, thought Yagyuu. "I'll wake you up early and we can make breakfast together." proposed the gentleman.

Niou groaned. "No early call please. Tomorrow's the weekend. Chill and relax for a bit."

"It's either you wake up early and eat breakfast or sleep in without food. Your choice." Yagyuu spoke as if giving an immature teenager two perfectly logical choices. Lazy Niou just groaned and pulled the covers over his head.

Yagyuu chuckled and found himself sliding up against Niou's side. Feeling the warmth of another person's body beside him was soothing, a feeling Yagyuu had missed greatly. It took only a few minutes for light snores to emerge from Niou. Yagyuu listened to the other male's deep and even breathing as his eyes drooped shut into a heavy slumber.

**~o~o~o~**


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: The Imperial Palace Chapter 5. **

**Setting: Strip Club AU.**

**Rating: Borderline T? Sorry it's not as smutty as you hoped it would be. **

**Pairing: Alpha Pair again (I'm biased that way). With mentions of Perfect Pair. **

**Reason: I finally got a day off from work. !writing time**

**Warnings: Uncreative content, possible OOC-ness, cheesy lines, OMG SANADA STOP COCKBLOCKING YOURSELF GODDAMMIT, scented pillows, etc. **

**Disclaimer: Konomi-sensei owns le prince of tennis~ **

**~o~o~o~**

* * *

><p>"You should say yes."<p>

"…Perhaps."

"You like him a lot. I can tell."

"I've liked many people in the past," said Yukimura, the words bitter in his mouth. He regarded Fuji with narrowed eyes. "Besides, this is my business, Fuji. I have the right to decide."

Fuji pursed his lips. "Oh, but just look at him. He looks so lonely," said the brunette, pointing in the direction of a single man sitting alone at one of the tables. "How can you say no to that?"

Yukimura sighed, looking in the direction of Sanada. Really, that man just didn't learn.

"I have rejected Sanada-kun's offer twice already," said Yukimura. "He doesn't get the message."

"Sanada-kun's just determined. It's good that he doesn't give up because you happen to be rather hard to get," said Fuji.

"It's a nuisance," said Yukimura, frowning. "You know, he's completely serious about me." They were practically strangers yet Yukimura could sense how deeply Sanada felt about him. It was overwhelming and scary, the way Sanada always looked at him with nothing but complete adoration in his eyes. It was quite easy to see that Sanada liked Yukimura a little _too _much.

Fuji chuckled. "That's usually a good thing, Yukimura. Give him a chance," he said. "You don't know what he's really like. You don't know if he's the jealous type, so stop assuming all serious commitments you engage in will end in a disaster. Get to know him. I'm sure you'll have a good time together."

Yukimura still didn't look convinced. The bluenette's gaze shifted back to Sanada, who was alone at a nearby table. Sanada was almost a regular now, showing up nearly every night presumably to see Yukimura. Samada always bought a drink so he wouldn't get kicked out for loitering, but he rarely drank it. Sanada didn't always talk to Yukimura either. Most often, Yukimura was busy working and Atobe would not appreciate it if Yukimura took time out of client-interaction time to chat with Sanada.

But even so... Yukimura had a hard time concentrating on his work when he could feel the burn of Sanada's stare on him at all times.

The few times they had talked lately had been short and brief. Yukimura did not invite Sanada backstage anymore. Sanada would sometimes just smile at him, uttering a greeting under his breath and that would be their only interaction for the whole evening. But twice, Sanada had actually taken the initiative during some down time. With his voice hoarse and cracked with nervousness, Sanada had asked Yukimura out. Both times, Yukimura had looked away and uttered a half-hearted excuse such as "Sorry, I'm too busy right now" or "I already have plans on that day". Yukimura hated the look of complete disappointment on Sanada's face immediately after. It was like Yukimura could hear Sanada's heart shattering, his face looking letdown like a kid who broke his favorite toy.

"At least give him a straight answer. Don't keep on torturing the poor man like that," said Fuji. "He comes back because he still thinks he has a chance."

Yukimura bit his lip. God, why must he be so indecisive?

"You're making this more complicated than it really is," said Fuji, appearing as if he knew exactly what was on Yukimura's mind. "Don't be selfish. It's been a while since you've been in a relationship. It'll be good for you."

"I don't know. I barely know Sanada-kun."

"Yet you took him backstage twice," said Fuji. Yukimura flushed. "Obviously there is something you like about him."

"I admit I did do that, but there is a difference in simple desire and wanting a long-lasting relationship," said Yukimura.

"So what then? You want him as your sex buddy?"

Yukimura did nothing but exhale loudly. "I don't know," he said. Before they could talk much more, there was a sudden influx of people entering the club. It was a large group of college students, some guys and a lot more girls. Soon the place would be packed, as it usually was on Friday nights. It wasn't bad though. They made more money with tips this way.

But again, Yukimura could still feel a prickling sensation on the back of his neck and he knew Sanada was looking at him again. This was going to be another long shift.

Fuji began fixing his headwear, a German-styled military hat. They didn't want Atobe yelling at them to work so they attempted to appear busy, fixing their new uniforms. Yukimura straightened up his own garb, smoothing the lines out of the sleeves. The theme Atobe had decided upon today was military outfits.

Fuji was attired with a dark sleek military jacket, complete with badges and golden buttons, making him look like some high ranking colonel when combined with the hat. He would have looked like an important war officer if no one looked at his bottom half.

Yukimura smiled. "Somehow, I don't think army generals wear booty shorts." He pointed to the tiny shorts that were part of Fuji's uniform. "Perhaps we should mention it to Atobe-san."

"I don't think Atobe-san will care as long as it looks sexy to the clients," said Fuji. He held up his whip, which apparently came with the outfit. "Sometimes I wish not every outfit needed so much tight leather though."

"Yes, I got lucky this time," said Yukimura, pointing at his own garb. Yukimura had an easier outfit on with the camouflage-patterned top, tiny khaki shorts and absolutely no leather on his person. He did not envy Fuji's attire at all. "Hopefully Atobe-san will tire of this theme soon as well."

"Hm... yes. Or perhaps this will be another weapon used to my advantage." Fuji branded his whip like some sadistic general, looking at the direction of the bar with a mischievous curve of lips. Yukimura followed Fuji's line of sight and smiled too. At the bar, Tezuka was oblivious to their stares and continued working along the counter, taking drink orders at a breakneck pace.

"You know, with the way you tease Tezuka, I'm surprised he hasn't burst yet," said Yukimura.

"Everyone has a breaking point, Yukimura," replied Fuji, his eyes wielding a determined flare. "I'll find Tezuka's limit. It's only a matter of time before his self control breaks."

Yukimura had no doubt about that. A determined Fuji was not something anyone should mess around with. Especially not when Fuji happened to be holding a whip while wearing a pair of extremely revealing shorts.

"I'm going," Fuji announced. He hauled himself up on the stage. Immediately, he got many stares from everyone in the area. "And Yukimura, do try to give him a chance." Fuji nodded in Sanada's direction. "He looks like a kicked puppy. It hurts even me to see that." With that said, Fuji strutted to the center stage, his steps promising a fantastic show.

Yukimura pursed his lips at Fuji's final comment. The place was starting to get crowded and Yukimura could already see a few customers looming at him, or more specifically, looming at his ass. He wasn't in the mood to work today, especially not when he knew Sanada would be sitting there the entire time watching his every moves again. He hoped he wouldn't have to deal with too many perverts today. If he was lucky, he could get away with doing nothing more than dancing with a few clients.

And then, against his better judgement, Yukimura looked over at Sanada's table out of the corner of his eyes.

He groaned, once again stuck in a dilemma. Sanada was really his type… tall and dark and handsome, yet still so innocently naïve in a way that made him appear adorable in Yukimura's eyes.

No. _Seiichi_, _don't do this_, Yukimura told himself. This will only end badly like it always does. But…

Yukimura felt his will weakening. Maybe just one date wouldn't hurt. One night of passion never killed anyone. Yukimura found his legs approaching in the direction of Sanada's table in slow hesitant steps. One date... just maybe...

The capped man looked up when he noticed Yukimura was headed in his direction. Yukimura stopped for a second before gathering the courage to stand right in front of Sanada's table and say "Good evening, Sanada-kun," with a tiny smile on his face.

"Hello Yukimura-kun," said Sanada. Already he looked so happy, smiling up at the dancer.

Yukimura swallowed. "How are you today?"

"Good. I'm great, even," said Sanada, his hands now appearing restless on the table. Yukimura saw Sanada wipe his palms on his pants. "You look very nice today, Yukimura-kun. I-I mean, not that you looked bad on the other days... I think you always look nice."

Yukimura found himself chuckling at Sanada's stuttering. "Thank you. I'll tell Atobe-san that his new outfits are a success then." He almost wanted to sit down with Sanada and just talk for a while. The heavy gazes of others around him reminded him of his job. "So, Sanada-kun, how is your internship going? I believe you've mentionned you started one last time we spoke."

"Oh it's going very good." Sanada was rather jittery, moving a lot in his seat as if unable to sit still. "Yes, I really enjoy it."

"I do hope you aren't tired in the morning," said Yukimura. "You spend quite a while here at night. I wouldn't want you to be lacking sleep or falling behind on your work."

"Don't worry about me. I know my limits," said Sanada. "I'm always happy to come here and see you."

"Ah…"

"Have you been very busy lately?" asked Sanada. "I hope you aren't overworking yourself either, Yukimura-kun. I noticed you work nearly every night." His voice held genuine concern.

"Oh no, not at all. Actually I have a few days off this week so I'll have time to rest up." said Yukimura.

Before Yukimura could say anything more, Sanada spoke out again, seizing the opportunity the moment it was presented to him. "That's good. Well, if you aren't too busy, then... I was wondering if…" Sanada stopped to clear his throat, his eyes shifting to the side away from Yukimura's face. "Maybe you'd like to go out with me for supper sometime this week?"

The question hung in the air for a silent moment. Yukimura bit the inside of his cheek. He had fallen right into that one. Sanada sure was a fast one, grabbing his chance the moment Yukimura had let his guard down. But after the past two rejections, perhaps Sanada was not expecting anything to come out of it again.

Yukimura remembered the disappointed expression on Sanada's face from the last two times and he was not eager to see it again. He pondered it for a second, remembering Fuji's words of encouragement from before. He thought about the last time he had brought Sanada over inside his dressing room... perhaps they could have a continuation.

_Just one date_, Yukimura repeated to himself. It's not a big deal. Just once. After a pause, Yukimura nodded.

"Sure," said Yukimura as if admitting defeat. "I'm free tomorrow if that's okay."

Sanada looked back at Yukimura, shocked. "Really?" he asked.

Yukimura laughed at Sanada's expression of pure joy. "Yes, really."

"I… oh, thank you!" Sanada stood up and bowed.

"No need to be so formal. It's only one date," said Yukimura.

"Oh, yes, yes of course," said Sanada, feeling exhilaration all throughout his body. He did it! He had a date with Yukimura! His heart thumped rapidly in glee. Already his mind was whirling with decisions such as where they should go to eat, what they could talk about, what to do afterwards.

"Then I guess I'll see you tomorrow. I'd love to stay and chat but I have to get back to work."

"Yes, I completely understand," said Sanada, bowing again. "Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow."

The conversation ended just like that. Yukimura turned around, feeling not too bad about his decision. He only got a few steps away before he bumped straight into someone's chest.

"I'm sor- Oh, it's you," said Yukimura, seeing that it was just Atobe in his usual suit and strong smelling cologne. "What do you want, Atobe-san?"

"What do you think you are doing?" Atobe demanded, hand on his hip. He looked absolutely furious. "Did you honestly think you could get away with this?"

"I spoke to Sanada-kun for only a minute. I'm going to work now, so if you'll excuse me-" Yukimura walked around Atobe only to be stopped and hauled back by one of Atobe's arms. "What is it this time?" He really hoped Atobe wasn't going to scold him for talking to Sanada. Really, it had barely taken any time at all.

"Your clothes. What the _hell_ are you wearing?" said Atobe, his voice strained as he looked at Yukimura up and down.

"The kinky military outfit that was delivered in my dressing room," answered Yukimura, crossing his arms.

"In what universe is your hair color_ ever_ allowed to be worn with khaki?" said Atobe. He looked absolutely furious. "Are you trying to ruin my club's reputation? Go change right this instant!"

"You chose this outfit," Yukimura retorted, standing his ground.

"No. Your outfit, as I recall, was supposed to be naval officer white and had a very commandant-_esque_ appeal to it. Ore-sama would not mistaken such radically different attires," said Atobe.

Yukimura's head jolted up. White naval officer outfit? "Is that what Shiraishi is wearing?"

A quick look at the dance floor in the direction of Shiraishi was enough proof to show that Yukimura and Shiraishi had probably mistakened their attires and accidentally switched them. Atobe looked like he was having a nervous breakdown just looking at Shiraishi's clothes.

"Relax, boss," said Yukimura. "It's fine. We'll just go change. It was an honest mistake." Yukimura was really not in the mood to change. Shiraishi's navy garment didn't look too bad and white would look much nicer on Yukimura, but the boots were so high that they might as well have been stockings. Shiraishi already appeared to be experiencing discomfort. Yukimura was not looking forward to putting those on.

Atobe made a very strange sound in the back of his throat; one that sounded like a dying cat.

"Atobe-san, go sit down and have a drink. It's alright. We'll go change before anyone notices," said Yukimura. He doubted anyone besides Atobe had noticed. Most customers were either staring at Fuji's stage dance or hypnotized by the other's dancers' behinds. Yukimura doubted the clients came to the Imperial Palace for the outfits.

Atobe gave him a look that screamed "How could anyone have not noticed this monstrosity?"

"Fuji is keeping the attention of the clients. I'll grab Shiraishi and we'll be back before you know it," said Yukimura and rushed off to do just that before Atobe could spontaneously combust and call the cavalry over skimpy sovereign clothes. Back on the stage, Fuji was more than just grabbing attention with his pole dance. At the bar, Tezuka had actually spilt a drink and was trying and failing miserably at cleaning it up properly. Poor Tezuka looked flustered and far too distracted for his own good.

Well at least it would be a good night for one of them, thought Yukimura. Tezuka was a ticking bomb at this point, just instances away from his self-control exploding. It was only a matter of time.

**~o~o~o~**

This was supposed to be immensely simple. It was supposed to be an easy and relaxed event. Really, it was only a date. Yukimura had been on many dates in the past. This was nothing new to him. It was just a quick dinner date and then a nice trip to Sanada's apartment where he would spend the night. Just one regular, simple date.

Then why was this so difficult?

Yukimura angrily threw his clothes down on his bed. He had _nothing_ to wear. His wardrobe literally consisted of the sweats he wore when he stayed home and the ridiculous outfits he had been allowed to keep from past themes at work. The problem was that dressing up in a sexy maid outfit in public was definitely not okay, let alone wearing it on a date.

A furious exhale escaped Yukimura's mouth. Okay, relax, he told himself. This was not the end of the world. It was just one date, just like he kept on telling himself over and over in his head. He could deal with his wardrobe looking like an erotic Halloween shop later. It was not a big deal.

Even so, the following two hours consisted of Yukimura furiously losing patience with his wardrobe as it took him that long to decide on an outfit. Once he decided on appropriate clothes, he ran out of his apartment in a hurry after realizing he was late. He had rushed to brush his teeth and comb his hair and had ended up wearing a pair of faded jeans, a regular black shirt and a scarf around his neck. Apparently that was the best his wardrobe could do at the moment besides making him late for his date.

Yukimura ran. He ran fast, bumping into a few people on the way without apologizing. This was just fantastic. Now he was going to arrive late and his clothes would be all sweaty from his run.

He stopped across the street from their meeting spot. Yukimura panted, leaning back against the near building to catch his breath. He pushed his hair off of his damp forehead. Yukimura could easily spot Sanada across the street, pacing in place and looking eagerly at his wristwatch every few seconds. Yukimura looked into the nearby window, inspecting his reflection. God, he really did look like a mess. His hair was having one of those bad days and running hadn't helped at all.

Either way, it was too late to turn back now. Yukimura walked towards Sanada, acting nonchalant as if he had totally not been running like a maniac to get there on time. The moment Sanada spotted Yukimura, his brown eyes melted into something warmer.

"You came," breathed Sanada, as if amazed at Yukimura's presence.

"Of course I did. I don't go back on my words you know," said Yukimura. His finger twirled one of his wavy strands into place. He felt rather self-conscious with how intensely Sanada stared at him.

"What is it? Do I have something on my face?" Yukimura asked when Sanada continued staring.

"Oh, no I was just… it's strange seeing you outside and in regular clothes," said Sanada, showing a sheepish smile. "You look nice."

"Thank you. And you look…" Yukimura paused to look at Sanada up and down. Sanada definitely looked different, as if he had tried too hard to look appropriate for their date. He had put on a dress shirt, ironed pants and his hair was slicked back out of his eyes by what seemed to be an enormous amount of gel. Yukimura couldn't help the small laugh that escaped him. "What did you do to your hair?" he asked, hiding his laugh behind the back of his hand.

Sanada scratched the side of his head. "It was being very unruly and I figured wearing my cap wouldn't be appropriate for our date."

"Hm… I'm not picky about what you wear," said Yukimura. His hand reached out and touched Sanada's arm. "We're not here to be fashion critics. Shall we go find a restaurant to eat?" He only now realized how hungry he was.

"Actually, I already reserved us a table. I hope you don't mind," said Sanada.

"Oh? Where are we going?"

"The Tsubame Gaeshi."

Yukimura stopped dead in the middle of the street. "You can't be serious. That place is pricey, especially for a student like yourself."

"Don't worry about it. I want to take you out to a nice place."

Yukimura frowned during the entire walk to the Tsubame Gaeshi. It was a popular restaurant in the area but Yukimura had never actually gone in, mostly because he had better things to do than spend money on overpriced plates. Nonetheless, Yukimura didn't protest as they entered the fancy-looking building and were greeted by a hostess who led them to their table. They had a nice seat next to the window and Yukimura couldn't help but wonder what Sanada had to do in order to get a table in such a place on such short notice.

But right as he thought that, Yukimura stopped and gaped at the place. The restaurant was huge. The walls were elaborately decorated with various paintings and professionally-made pieces of calligraphy. The ceiling had glittering chandeliers in various abstract shapes. But what caught Yukimura's attention the most was the large section in the middle of the restaurant where chefs were preparing the food, right in front of the client's eyes. Yukimura was impressed by the display. Chefs grilled meat and fish then sliced it up perfectly and swiftly with a wide variety of knives. The plates were then presented beautifully and delivered to some lucky person's table. Yukimura felt ravenous just looking at it.

The bluenette eventually tore his eyes away from the surroundings and actually looked down at the menu. At that point, Yukimura bit his tongue to stop himself from saying anything when he saw the prices. He knew it would do no good to protest at this point. Fuji had been right in saying that Sanada was determined or, for a better word, stubborn. Sanada had not given up asking Yukimura out on a date and he certainly would not give up until Yukimura ordered something.

"Don't agonize yourself, Yukimura-kun," said Sanada. He looked over the top of his menu to stare at Yukimura's troubled face. "Order whatever you want. I insist that you have a good time."

"If you say so," said Yukimura. The waiter soon arrived to take their orders. Since he had no choice, Yukimura made the point of ordering the cheapest fish plate on the menu. If Sanada noticed, he didn't say a word about it. "It's the first time my date brings me to such a place, you know," Yukimura said once they were alone at their table again.

"Really? I can't imagine why. I think you deserve even more than this," said Sanada.

"Mm, I suppose the price must have been a turn off."

"Still, you're worth much more than the price on these plates," said Sanada. "A million times more."

"Ah…" Yukimura looked away. He felt himself flush at Sanada's words. No one had ever told him such a stupid and cheesy thing before. Yukimura found his heart thumping faster anyways. "Thank you."

"No need. It's only the truth," said Sanada. He looked adorable like this, smiling with fondness in his eyes and his hair glazed over with whatever he had put in it. Even if Sanada was a full grown man and was much bigger than Yukimura, the bluenette couldn't help but think of Sanada as cute. Yukimura was already looking forward to later, where he would be able to strip Sanada of those abysmally fancy clothes and watched that face flush adorably.

"I'm very happy you agreed to come with me today," continued Sanada. "To be honest, I was a bit afraid you would reject me again. I was starting to think you no longer liked me."

Yukimura sipped from his glass of water. "Yes, I apologize for rejecting you those other times. I was busy," he lied. He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet.

"Well it's fine now. I'm glad you took time out of your schedule in order to come here."

"Ah, yes," Yukimura had trouble meeting Sanada's eyes. Yukimura wondered if he should say something about this... maybe place boundaries and explain that he hadn't agreed on any serious and long-term commitments by accepting one date. He certainly didn't want Sanada getting his hopes up for nothing.

Their plates soon arrived and they were nothing short of exquisite. The presentation of the dish was sublime, with the vegetables curled into bouquets and the sauce drawn in detailed patterns on the white fish. The Tsubame Gaeshi clearly lived up to its reputation both in looks and taste.

Yukimura cut his fish and chewed softly while looking up at Sanada every once in a while. Even with Yukimura's hesitation, he couldn't deny that Sanada made him feel so… special. Yukimura felt cared for, like he was all Sanada was concerned about. Yukimura could definitely see himself falling for Sanada quite easily and that was why this was so dangerous.

Yukimura lowered his chopsticks. "You didn't have to do all this," said the dancer. He felt bad making Sanada spend this much money on him.

"I don't mind at all," said Sanada. "It was my pleasure. To be honest, I was a bit nervous about this date... but I want you to know that I really do like you a lot and you don't know how happy I am that you came here with me."

Yukimura felt the fish run down his throat, down to the cold knot in his stomach. "It's just one date, Sanada-kun," said Yukimura, his voice cool. "I'm flattered but you didn't have to go through so much."

Sanada showed _that _smile again. "I know that. But I was so happy when you agreed that I just wanted nothing more than for you to have a good time. I was afraid you were still angry with me... over that other time..."

"That time in the dressing room?" asked Yukimura.

"Yes. I'm sorry if my comment that time came off the wrong way. I know that dancing and s-stripping is your job and I didn't mean to sound…"

"Possessive?" Yukimura supplied. Sanada nodded apologetically. "It's fine. You aren't the first, trust me on that."

"Yes, well, I am sorry and I won't make such comments again," said Sanada. "You have my word."

Yukimura drank his water slowly, taking his time to put down the glass and swallow. "It's behind us now. There is no need to dwell upon it."

"Ah, I guess not," said Sanada. He took a few more bites out of his own plate, finishing it. Yukimura did the same, his stomach feeling stuffed to its maximum capacity. Yukimura wiped his mouth and thanked Sanada for the meal.

Sanada responded by leaning over the table and grabbing Yukimura's hand. Yukimura was surprised, shooting a questionning look in Sanada's direction.

"Yukimura-kun, I like you regardless of your profession. Since the moment I saw you, I don't think I ever felt so strongly about someone," said Sanada.

The blue-haired man blinked, a little bit unsure about the sudden serious tone Sanada had put on. He laughed nervously in attempt to disperse the mood to something lighter. "If I remember correctly, you released inside your pants the first time we met," said Yukimura, teasing. "This strong emotion you are describing is most likely arousal."

Sanada blushed furiously from the base of his neck to the tip on his ears. He opened his mouth a few times but no words came out. "W-Well, I couldn't help it," said Sanada, flabbergasted. "You began g-grinding on me and it wasn't like I had any experience doing that kind of stuff."

"Oh? So you are some pure and innocent virgin then?" Yukimura's curve of lips was mischievous, loving the look of complete mortification on Sanada's face. "Nice to know I'm the only one who can make you feel so good that you spoil your pants."

The couple at the table next to them looked equally mortified at Yukimura and Sanada's new topic of conversation.

Sanada cleared his throat, willing his red face to return to its normal hue. "Only you, Yukimura-kun," he whispred. He tightened his grasp on Yukimura's hand. "Only you have such an effect on me. Each time I look at you I feel so lucky that you are giving me a chance to get close to you."

Yukimura felt breathless, his hand so hot in Sanada's hold. Why did this always happen? Why did Sanada have such a strong effect on him? Sanada just kept on saying such awful cheesy things and it was making Yukimura feel all fuzzy inside and he hated himself for feeling that. By all means, Yukimura should be laughing at Sanada, laughing at how silly it sounded. What made it worse was how Sanada looked at him with complete seriousness and Yukimura just knew he couldn't laugh at it now.

This was bad.

"We should go." said Yukimura in a tone lower than usual. He pulled his hand back.

He let Sanada get up and pay the bill without a word of protest. Yukimura sunk back in his chair, catching his breath. Again, he felt that confused and overwhelmed sensation taking over. His hand still tingled from Sanada's hold, his body feeling hypersensitive to the man's every touch. Yukimura shivered. He should be running away from this and fast. Instead, Yukimura found himself longing for more. After this they would be alone and Yukimura would ask to go to Sanada's apartment. He thought back to those times in the dressing room and suddenly he was eager to go, his whole person heating up even more at the thought of being alone and touching Sanada, kissing him and hearing him say his name in a breathless whimper... God, this man was too addictive.

"Yukimura, are you coming?" said Sanada. Yukimura blinked out of his haze, seeing that Sanada was back and holding out his hand. "I paid. We can go now."

Yukimura hesitated, his rational mind still throwing protests at him, running round and round in his head. Yukimura grazed his eyes up the line of Sanada's toned body.

"Is something wrong?" asked Sanada, concerned when Yukimura didn't move from his seat.

Yukimura shook his head. _Oh shut up!_ he told his brain. He smiled and nested his hand into Sanada's awaiting one, pulling himself up. Yukimura focussed on the warm feeling in his hand as they walked out of the restaurant, their fingers twined together. He sighed contently, feeling at ease without the thoughts constantly stabbing at his mind. Right now, he only wanted to focus on what he wanted and what felt good.

"Thank you for today, Sanada-kun," said Yukimura. There would be no harm in letting his guard down and spending one night together. He could have fun and let himself go just for a bit in the arms of someone who cared for him. Sanada had done so much already... surely Sanada deserved a type of reward as well.

"It was my pleasure. I'm glad you liked it," said Sanada, sounding pleased with how the date had gone and even happier with the way Yukimura was holding his arm. The evening air felt cool against Yukimura's heated cheeks. The bluenette shifted, putting his plan immediately into action.

"Now…" Yukimura crowded his body up against Sanada's side. "Shall we move on to the second part of the date?" he asked, his voice now taking on a flirtier tone. He dragged his nails down along Sanada's torso. Yukimura could feel goosebumps rising on Sanada's arm.

"W-What do you mean?" said Sanada, visibly jolted by the change in atmosphere. Yukimura craned his face closer, nearly hanging off Sanada.

"I mean, let's go over to your place," said Yukimura, a heated whisper against Sanada's ear. Yes, this was exactly what he needed. Fuji had been right about one thing: it had been far too long since Yukimura had gone on a date, even longer since he had actually slept in someone else's bed. Yukimura's whole body was thrumming with eagerness.

"Oh. Um, alright. It's not too far," said Sanada. He looked both confused and a little worried as he changed their direction, heading along a different street.

"No need to be nervous, Sanada-kun," said Yukimura. "There's nothing you need to worry about."

"Ah… actually, I was thinking about the state of my apartment," said Sanada. "I hope Renji remembered to take out the garbage."

"I'm sure it's fine. But your friend Renji… he's at your place?"

"We live together. On the university campus. It's a bit like a dorm." said Sanada. "Oh, but I do recall that Renji was supposed to be out all night so I'm sure he won't mind you coming over. He's always studying at his friend's house and doing mathematics and statistics or something like that."

Good, thought Yukimura. He wasn't eager to have a third person eavesdropping on his private time with Sanada. "Well, I'm glad your friend is so studious," Yukimura replied.

The walk to the university campus took nearly half an hour and Yukimura was growing more and more impatient by the second. The apartment building was an ordinary one made of grey bricks with a rusty fire escape along the back and ugly curtains visible through most windows. They walked up a few flights of stairs, passing by hallways that were very noisy, as if students were having parties, and others that were quiet.

"It's here," said Sanada once they reached the fifth floor and stopped in front of a brown door. He fumbled around with his keys, opening the door with a screech. He turned on the lights, illuminating the space inside. "Um… please, come in." Sanada walked right in, throwing his keys on the near table.

Yukimura followed him inside. He barely registered the area at all, nothing of the books on the table nor the pillows on the small couch stayed in his mind. All he saw was Sanada's broad back and undeniably attractive figure. Yukimura closed the door, already feeling breathless as Sanada mumbled something, maybe apologizing about the mess in the room. It was when Sanada turned back to stare at him with those gentle brown eyes that Yukimura's control slipped. He shoved Sanada back against the door and kissed him square on the mouth.

Yukimura sighed in relief, loosening his scarf. His lips worked Sanada's mouth open, demanding more of that sweet addicting taste. Sanada was frozen in shock, pinned tightly against the door and helpless to Yukimura's attack. The stripper's tongue licked at Sanada's parted lips, his teeth, touching every part of that moist mouth. Sanada made a sound in the back of his throat and Yukimura swallowed it.

He pulled back for air, working his mouth down to Sanada's throat, pressing fleeting bites against the skin. His hands mussed Sanada's hair and pulled on the hairs along the back of his neck. The heat radiating from Sanada was amazing and all Yukimura could think of was wanting _more._

"Yukimura-kun…" said Sanada, his voice breathless. "Wait a second."

"It's fine." Yukimura kissed his collar, pleased with the red marks coating the raven's neck. He sucked on them harder, licking and biting and making Sanada emit gasps over and over as his neck was thoroughly ravaged. "Just let me take care of you," said the bluenette. He took hold of Sanada's dress shirt and pulled it up high enough for his nipples to show. "Hold this." Yukimura bunched up the shirt, indicated for Sanada to hold it up.

"But I- Mmph!" Sanada found Yukimura stuffing the ends of the shirt's material into Sanada's mouth.

"Keep it up like this please," said Yukimura, pleased when Sanada merely looked helpless and bit down to keep the shirt in place, displaying a perfectly unobstructed view of his chest. Yukimura then began preying upon his newest targets: Sanada's dusky nipples. They were erect on his tanned skin, just begging to be fondled. Yukimura pinched one hard, getting a muffled moan from Sanada. The taller man squirmed as Yukimura continued and took the other nipple into his mouth. Yukimura licked around the bud in light and teasing touches, giving Sanada a false sense of docileness before he bit it.

Sanada buckled, his face contorted in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Yukimura sucked on the red nipples, playing with them until he was sure Sanada would be moaning loudly if he didn't have part of his shirt in his mouth. It didn't take long for Yukimura to remove said shirt, wanting to actually hear the noises Sanada made. He kissed Sanada's swollen lips and their tongues made a sloppy mess, dripping drool down their chins.

"Oh... a-ah… hold on," Sanada seemed to be having a lot of difficulty thinking and so forming coherent words was a real challenge for him at the moment. "I mean, I thought we would… _ahh_, s-sit down and… and talk. I can make tea- _Yukimura!_" He cried out when Yukimura brushed the front of his crotch. His thighs clenched together.

"I didn't come here for tea, Sanada-kun," purred Yukimura, taking delight in watching the emotions play across Sanada's face. "Where has the bold Sanada from last time gone?"

They kissed again and Sanada moaned into Yukimura's mouth, each moan dragging into another. Yukimura's hand ventured under Sanada's pants, touching heated flesh and feeling it harden under his fingertips.

"Bed?" Yukimura asked against Sanada's mouth. He felt Sanada's cock twitch against his palm so he rubbed harder.

"Nhnn... oh, wait," Sanada rasped, hitting his head against the door. His head flailed side to side, his hips unable to stay still. "_Please_!"

Yukimura let out an impatient growl, removing his hand from between Sanada's trembling thighs and licking his sticky fingers. "What?" he demanded.

Sanada paused to catch his breath. He looked completely desirable in that state, with his messed up hair, reddened cheeks and dishevelled clothes, shirt ripped open to expose a toned chest and jutted hipbones.

"I-I don't think we should… do this," whispered Sanada.

"What?" Yukimura repeated, this time more in disbelief at what he was hearing.

"I want to wait," said Sanada, a bit more firmly this time.

Yukimura blinked in surprise. "You don't want to do it with me?"

"No, it's not that!" Sanada was quick to reassure Yukimura. "I really do like you and of course I want to do… _it_ with you. But," He grabbed Yukimura's hands, holding them as if they were something sacred. "I want it to be special. I like you very much, Yukimura-kun, and that's why I want to wait before we do it." Sanada then leaned down and kissed Yukimura's palm, looking at Yukimura with pleading eyes. "Please."

Yukimura sucked in a breath. He couldn't deny how disappointed he felt, yet he was powerless to the look Sanada was giving him. He felt himself nod numbly and then Sanada was kissing him. This time it was a slow and languid kiss that spread tender passion from his head to the tips of his toes. Yukimura could do nothing but stand on jellified legs and kiss him back, craving for more but unable to get it.

"I hope you don't mind," murmured Sanada, his mouth moving against Yukimura's.

Yukimura nipped at Sanada's lips. "Mm… you are the first man to reject me like this."

Sanada pulled back. He brushed his thumb over Yukimura's swollen red lips. Yukimura's tongue darted out and touched the pad of his finger. "Are you sure?" Yukimura asked him.

Sanada nodded. "I'm positive."

"Then I suppose tea would be good, yes."

Sanada laughed. They finally dislodged themselves from the door and made their way further inside the apartment. Sanada set out to prepare tea and Yukimura sat down on the small table to observe the other man. Yukimura was still breathing heavily, his eyes glazed over in desire. He felt cold without Sanada's body heat close to him.

"Is green tea okay?" asked Sanada.

"Fine," replied Yukimura. He watched Sanada preparing it, stumbling over opening a package of tea leaves and dropping some water on the floor. Maybe Sanada was nervous to have him here. Or maybe the hard-on in his pants was distracting. Yukimura was betting on the latter.

"You can still spend the night here if you wish," said Sanada. "I can lend you my bed. Renji's out tonight anyways."

Yukimura thought about it for a second. It would be torturous to stay in the same place as Sanada all night knowing they weren't going to do anything. But on second thought, Yukimura's apartment was quite a ways away even by bus and it was quite late. "Maybe I will, thank you," said Yukimura. He took the hot cup Sanada poured him and blew on it to cool it down. Sanada sat on his opposite side and did the same.

"Maybe next time we can go out elsewhere," said Sanada. "Perhaps see a movie or take a walk downtown."

Yukimura sipped his tea. He looked up at Sanada's hopeful gaze and smiled. "Sure, that would be lovely," he said. A few dates never hurt anybody. They were just getting to know each other. It was nothing more than that. And Yukimura would have a second chance at getting to spend the night with Sanada.

"Thank you," said Sanada, excited.

"But no more expensive restaurants. I insist on paying next time," warned Yukimura.

"Yes, as you wish," said Sanada. He stood up and leaned over the table. He kissed Yukimura sweetly, showing him just how happy he was.

They finished their tea and spent time on the couch for a while afterwards, seated side by side and talking about one thing or another. Sanada yawned first and it was decided that it was time to go to sleep. Sanada showed Yukimura to the bathroom and then to his bedroom. Sanada's bedroom was small and only had the bare necessities such as a bed, a desk and a wardrobe, but it was cozy nonetheless.

And so, Yukimura lay there that night, in a bed that smelled of Sanada and left to wonder how everything had somehow turned completely different from how Yukimura had expected it to. Yukimura was in Sanada's bed, but by himself. He was spending the night, but it was to actually sleep. However… it wasn't a bad change of plans, thought Yukimura. He had had a lovely evening with a man who thought of him as a human being worth cherishing. Yukimura smiled like a lovestruck girl at the thought of another date like this one.

"Sanada…" he whispered and dug his face deeper into his Sanada-scented pillow.

**~o~o~o~**


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: The Imperial Palace Chapter 6**

**Setting: Strip Club AU.**

**Rating: Whatever the highest is.**

**Reason: I've been wanting to write this pair for a long time but never got the chance until now. Atobe is just one of those people who I can pair up with anybody. **

**Also, I think I lost my ability to write smut so I pre-apologize for the lack of sexyness. D;**

**Pairing: ROYAL PAIR. **

**Warnings: Uncreative content, possible OOC-ness, I can't write smut, I can't write a proper Echizen or Atobe, uncomfortable sex against a wooden surface, PONTA, etc. **

**Disclaimer: Konomi-sensei owns the everything.**

**~o~o~o~**

* * *

><p>The moment Atobe stepped foot inside his establishment, the famous strip club that went by the name of the Imperial Palace, he immediately sensed that something was off.<p>

No, it wasn't the dancers, still wearing those atrocious military uniforms with the wrongly-colored hats, that were the problem. What was noticeably different was the fact that it was a Wednesday night but there was an obvious influx of people.

And none of those people were requesting performances from his beautiful and marvellous dancers. On the contrary, the crowd was whispering among themselves and girls were giggling and pulling out their cellphones to snap pictures. There was even the occasional man with a professional-looking camera snapping away at something hidden to Atobe's eye.

Atobe didn't have to look to know what – or rather _who _– was presently sitting at the bar and attracting so much attention. There was only one person who could do such a thing.

"He only came in like five minutes ago and already the place is crowded," Muhaki informed Atobe. "They'll flood the place like last time," he complained, pouting.

"Would you like me to get security and backup help to handle the situation?" asked Shiraishi.

Atobe shook his head. "No need. We'll just limit the numbers coming in so tell the bouncers to carefully check anyone they let in and to deny entry once we get full. Also, anyone who doesn't buy and just sits there gawking will be escorted out," said Atobe. God, this always causes a mess. But if Atobe played his cards right, then everyone staying would have to purchase something, which meant a good profit for him. Atobe smiled at his plan. He was so smart. Of course he was; he was the great Atobe Keigo.

The dancers stood on the sidelines, staring as Atobe sparkled and glowed as he always did whenever he thought of himself as awesome.

"Hey, boss," said Mukahi, shaking Atobe's shoulder.

Atobe was snapped out of his reverie. He cleared his throat. "You, go inform the bouncers and bodyguard of the changes," he said to Mukahi. "And you go call Fuji and Yukimura. We'll be needed extra help today," he told Shiraishi, who nodded and ran off to call his work friends. "And you," he pointed to Zaizen. "Go alert the crowd that anyone who disrupts or loiters around will be escorted out. Then go help Tezuka at the bar." Zaizen nodded, not even looking up from his phone as he went off in the direction of the crowd.

Atobe leaned back, regarding the situation calmly. Wrongly styled outfits could make him go off on a rage but this was definitely something he could handle. He adjusted his own tie, matching perfectly with his dark silver suit and stunningly gorgeous hair, and approached the bar. He was jostled by a few customers, some pushing and shoving and one nearly spilling his beer all over Atobe's front. Atobe wrinkled his nose in disgust but still managed to make his way through.

Predictably, he found the young man seated at the bar. The two seats on either side of the young man were empty despite the number of people surrounding him. No doubt everyone was too shy or overwhelmed from being in the presence of such a celebrity to actually gather the courage to take a seat beside him.

Atobe helped himself, sitting on the empty chair and signalling Tezuka to get him some of his expensive French wine.

"You always cause such a fuss each time you show up," drawled Atobe. The young man next to him stirred, golden eyes looking right at Atobe's direction. Atobe smirked. "Congratulations on your victory in the Australian Open by the way."

"It's a bit late for that, isn't it? The Australian Open was over a month ago," said the golden-eyed man. Although the man was young and quite short, that tiny body actually held the title of tennis world champion with half a dozen Grand Slam gold medals under his name. Yes, only Echizen Ryoma, the most famous tennis player in the world, could attract so much attention so fast.

Echizen gulped down his drink, a disgusting mix of Ponta and fruit brandies. Atobe grimaced. He made sure the bar was always stocked with Ponta for the tennis player as Echizen was a regular when he wasn't off winning tennis tournaments around the world. However, that didn't mean Atobe approved of mixing cheap sugary grape juice with fruity alcoholic beverages. No, Atobe had much better taste than that.

Either way, Atobe was no fool and would not chase out the tennis player regardless of what he drank. Atobe knew the profit and attention given to his club rose greatly whenever Echizen came for a visit. That was why Echizen was treated as the guest with the highest importance. The only thing Atobe hated was the gawking fans and the sounds of clicking camera from all directions, probably paparazzi following Echizen around again.

Zaizen and Jackal had began dispersing the crowd a little so the people weren't a stifling mass of heat around them. A few more aggressive ones who very much wanted to see Echizen were escorted out. And by escorting, Atobe meant being grabbed by the collar and thrown out the front door.

"Boss." Shiraishi re-appeared next to him. "I contacted Fuji and Yukimura. Fuji will be here shortly. Yukimura is on his way too but he may take a while getting here as he was on a date."

"Good," said Atobe, dismissing Shiraishi with a nod. He turned to Echizen. "Your favourites are coming soon. Will you be picking Fuji again?"

Echizen didn't reply immediately. Every time Echizen came, he made sure to request a dance from one of the employees. Atobe knew for a fact that Echizen had danced with all the erotic strippers in the club at least once, but Fuji was the one most often requested. It was no surprise: Fuji was not the most popular stripper in the club for no reason.

"Actually, I'm in the mood for something different today," said Echizen. His eyes held a mischievous gleam, which was never a good sign. Atobe knew rejecting Echizen's offers was not something smart to do, no matter how outrageous they might be.

"What sort of different?" asked Atobe, cautious. "I'm afraid we haven't hired any new dancers since you last came."

"Heh… is that so?" said Echizen. The smaller man continued looking at Atobe in that unnerving way. "Either way, you wouldn't want me to get bored here, now would you?"

"Get to the point," demanded Atobe, putting his foot down. Pro tennis player or not, Atobe was not going to be wrapped around this man's little finger like some common servant.

Echizen twisted so that he was facing Atobe. He was smirking, a cocky and infuriating smile that Atobe was sure meant nothing good for him. "Won't you dance for me, Monkey King?" asked Echizen.

Atobe blinked in surprise before throwing his head back and laughing loudly. "Not in a million years, brat," he said. Tezuka brought his glass of wine right on time. Atobe sipped from it, dearly hoping that Echizen was joking.

But Echizen appeared completely serious about it, his face holding no hints that he was kidding.

"Tell me you're joking," said Atobe.

"Not at all." Echizen leaned his head on his propped up arm. "I told you I'm in the mood for something different, so why not? Do you not have any confidence in your body?"

"All my assets are magnificent and praise-worthy, far more so than anyone else," said Atobe proudly. "You'll have to work much harder than that to gain the privilege to see me strip."

"Hmm… am I not worthy of your time?" asked Echizen, his voice holding an almost curious tone. "Or perhaps you already have enough men at your disposal. You certainly have a list of fine young men working for you."

That comment made something snap inside of Atobe.

"Just what are you implying, brat?" asked Atobe, his eyes a steel ice like his voice. He met Echizen's challenging gaze. "I don't sleep with my employees. I don't know where you could have possibly heard such a thing."

Echizen was doing this on purpose, thought Atobe. The cocky tennis player was practically asking for it. It was infuriating how Echizen thought he could just waltz in here and take what he wanted. Atobe itched to teach him a lesson, to show him that things would not go his way. Atobe was the boss here, dammit, not some stuck-up tennis idiot.

Atobe smiled, an upturn of lips meant for deception. "Echizen-kun, perhaps you'd like to talk somewhere more private, away from these people?" he said, pointing to the crowd surrounding them.

Echizen raised an eyebrow, suspicious for a second. "Private?"

"Yes. I have my office here on the second floor. The wine up there is so much finer than down here," purred Atobe, inviting. His fingers touched Echizen's shoulder, a teasing graze. "Won't you join me?"

Echizen smirked, clearly thinking he was getting exactly what he wanted. He pushed his Ponta away and slide out of his barstool. Atobe did the same, nodding at the bartender and strippers to keep on working while he was upstairs with Echizen.

A few people stopped Echizen on the way, some for autographs and others to take pictures. Echizen didn't say no to any of them, smiling for the camera and signing whatever paper and/or body parts his fans gave him. Atobe waited patiently, tapping his foot against the floor even when a small line-up formed in front of Echizen.

_That won't do_, thought Atobe, frowning.

Atobe slid behind Echizen, putting a hand on the tennis player's shoulder. "I'm sorry everyone, but Echizen Ryoma has business to take care of," announced Atobe to the crowd of fans and photographers. A few groaned and voiced complains and begged for just a picture. Echizen gave them apologetic looks and followed Atobe to the hidden staircase that led upstairs to Atobe's office.

"You certainly are more popular than the last time I saw you," said Atobe.

"Yes, winning your seventh Grand Slam will do wonders for your popularity," said Echizen, walking close behind the boss.

"You'll be busy soon I assume? Tennis season is coming up," said Atobe.

"Yup. The French Open is next on the list. Wimbledon and the U.S. Open are close afterwards," said Echizen. "My coach won't be letting me rest for a while." He sounded sour about it, as if winning tournaments were such a chore to do. "Have you watched any of my games lately, Monkey King?"

"I watched the first half of your semi-finals in Australia," replied Atobe. It had been quite impressive but Atobe was not about to say that. He was the great Atobe Keigo; he did not compliment others on their success.

"Here we are," said Atobe, pulling out his keys and unlocking the only door in the entire upstairs hallway.

"You have a nice setup here. No neighbours," said Echizen. "Doesn't the loud music get distracting when you are doing office work?" The thump of the loud music could still be heard, even up here.

Atobe's grin was sly. "This room serves many purposes, not only office work. Do come in." Atobe indicated for Echizen to enter the room. The smaller man did just that with Atobe following closely behind him and closing the door behind them.

The room could not really be called an office in Echizen's opinion. Sure, there was the carved mahogany desk by the large window, but the rest was more like a luxury suite. Echizen would never have guessed that such a room would exist inside such an ordinary-looking building.

There was a large couch along the side, next to bookshelves. The couch looked plush and was of a deep royal purple color, the same as the curtains and the carpet. The opposite side of the room held a small bar, complete with shiny wine glasses and a wine cellar. The chandelier on the ceiling was elaborate and impressive, but not as much as the enormous painting Atobe had of himself on the wall.

"Heh, who would have though such a room existed in this building," said Echizen. He ran his hand along the soft pillows on the couch, looking at the book titles along the shelves. "This is quite the office."

Atobe made his way to the bar counter, grabbing two crystal glasses and a red wine bottle, pouring it with practiced ease. He went to Echizen's side, handing him one glass.

"It's a Château Haut-Brion. Only the finest," said Atobe, clanging their glasses together.

"A what now?"

Atobe sighed, as if utterly disappointed at Echizen's lack of knowledge about wine brands. "It's French," was all Atobe added before he drank. "Ideally I would serve an excellent on-tray to match the wine's voluptuous aroma, but I suppose we'll simply have to do without it for today."

Ryoma carefully took a sip and grimaced at the taste. _Ungrateful brat_, thought Atobe.

"It's quite an office you have here," continued Echizen. He abandoned his glass on the bookshelf, leaving it there to soak up some dust. He moved on to the desk, which was lying right in the center of the room. The desk held nothing more than a lamp, few papers and writing utensils. Echizen turned back and flashed a look at Atobe. "Do you spend a lot of time here?"

"Not recently, no," replied Atobe.

"Hm…" Both of Echizen's palm were lying flush on the surface of the desk, his back to Atobe. Atobe's eyes trailed lower, looking at the smaller boy's firm behind and tight leg muscles that stuck out from under his shorts. Atobe vaguely wondered if Echizen's stamina would be as good in bed as it was on the tennis field. Atobe drained his glass and stepped closer to Echizen.

The tennis player could feel Atobe approaching but he did not turn around. Instead he shifted his face sideways, flashing a coy smile at Atobe. "This room certainly is… private," Echizen said in a husky whisper. His head edged closer to Atobe's. "So what other uses does this room have?"

Echizen licked his lips, slowly and deliberately, his mouth suddenly very close to Atobe's. He was about to inch closer went he instead felt Atobe gripping his arm behind his back, almost painfully. Echizen tried moving only to be rewarded by a painful squeeze to his arm.

"Behave," warned Atobe, pressing Echizen down so that he was bended over the desk. Atobe's grip didn't falter even as he stopped to admire how helpless Echizen looked, his shirt riding up and his ass just begging to be touched.

Echizen smirked, wriggling against Atobe's hold and pressing back to grind against him. "Is that all you've got, Monkey King?" asked Echizen, taunting.

"You really _are_ asking for it," growled Atobe. His other hand went to Echizen's hip and immobilized it too. Any hesitation he had quickly flew away at the sight of Echizen's far too willing body. His hand trailed along Echizen's clothed ass, giving it a firm squeeze. It had been a while since he had brought someone back to this room… perhaps Echizen would not be a bad partner.

Echizen appeared calm but Atobe could notice an increase pace in his breathing and a glazed over look in his eyes that showed just how excited he really was. Echizen wriggled again, pressing against Atobe's hold while making a small wanton sound.

Atobe pressed their hips together, leaning over Echizen to whisper in his ear. "Well well, aren't you an eager little slut?"

"Hmph. You won't be able to satisfy me like this," said Echizen. "Whatever happened to the so-called magnificent skills you've always boasted about?"

Atobe thought that Echizen was being rather cheeky for someone bent and trapped over a wooden desk. "You're hardly in any position to talk right now, Echizen-kun," he whispered. Atobe's hand leaned around Echizen's waist, cupping the front of the young man's short. He gave a hard, almost painful squeeze, making Echizen open his mouth in a silent gasp. Encouraged by the lack of rejection, Atobe ventured further and roamed inside the pants, lightly stroking the hot flesh. He felt it hardening in his hand.

Echizen's mouth was clamped shut, his teeth biting his bottom lip in an attempt to conceal any noises that were about to escape his throat. Atobe accepted the challenge, rolling the smaller's cock between his fingers.

"So you're going to stay quiet in the end, hm?" said Atobe. He was not oblivious to the way Echizen's breathing was sped up, his hips trembling from the effort to not rock into that hand. "How long do you think you can keep it up?"

Echizen merely stared determinedly at a paper under his head. "This… this is nothing," he said, his voice strained. "Bring it on."

"Don't lie. I can feel how wet you've become," said Atobe. He let go of Echizen's arm, pleased when Echizen kept it in place. He worked at unbuttoning his suit's buttons. God forbid he got his clothes dirty or wrinkled from this. All the while, his hand never ceased diligently pleasing Echizen's arousal. It was becoming apparent that Echizen was fighting a losing battle. As time went on, the sensations were intensifying. Echizen was soon full out panting, his cheek flushed pink against the desk.

Atobe's grin was smug. He purposely slowed down until he was moving at a torturously sluggish pace. Echizen resorted to desperately humping Atobe's hand for more.

"Bastard," Echizen gritted. His nails scraped against the wood. Atobe hoped it wouldn't leave actual nail marks; that polished desk was quite pricey.

"You talk big, but you aren't very resistant to these types of stimulations, hm?" Once Atobe had thrown his jacket on the couch, he leaned over to press biting kisses along the back of Echizen's neck. "Just give in," Atobe whispered in Echizen's ear and then biting the appendage.

"As if you are any better," hissed Echizen. He pressed his hips back against Atobe's groin, feeling a distinctive bulge in that area. "I can feel you pressing against me, Monkey King. You don't have much self-control either."

Atobe tightened his grip. He stroked as hard and fast as he dared, surprising Echizen. The tennis player did moan this time, collapsing on the desk and unable to utter any coherent words. He felt Echizen's muscles becoming rigid, his thrusts desperate. Within a minute Echizen was coming, crying out and soaking Atobe's hand with his seed.

Atobe pulled his hand back, smiling smugly. He grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his fingers meticulously as Echizen lay slumped against the desk. It didn't take long for Echizen to turn around, evidently still in the mood for more. Echizen sat up on the desk, facing Atobe and looking as infuriatingly cocky as ever.

Atobe scowled. "Didn't anyone ever tell you it was rude to sit on other people's desks?"

"I hope that wasn't all you had in mind for today," said Echizen, ignoring Atobe's comment. "It will take much more than that to satisfy me." His foot came up, nudging between Atobe's thighs.

Pushing Echizen's foot aside, Atobe took a step forward and crashed his lips against Echizen's. It was a sensual battle of lips and tongues with neither of them backing down. Echizen was rough, biting at Atobe's increasingly swollen lips. The tennis player's arms wrapped around Atobe's neck and his legs around Atobe's hips so that they were in full contact with each other. Echizen certainly put up convincing arguments, thought Atobe.

Well, since Echizen was so willing, Atobe decided he might as well devour the plate set before him. He pushed Echizen back down on the desk, this time with Echizen looking straight up at him, his legs spread like some wanton whore.

"Like what you see?" asked Echizen with half-lidded eyes. Atobe stopped himself from snorting in order to rid Echizen of his pants in one slick motion.

"If you think that's impressive, then you will be awed at the sight of ore-sama's magnificent body," said Atobe. He began stripping the remainder of his clothes, unbuttoning his ironed shirt and loosening his tie, baring his torso to the world.

Even if Echizen would never admit it out loud, he had to admit Atobe's bragging had its reasons. Atobe obviously worked out, judging from his toned chest and tight thighs that were slowly being exposed to him. Echizen was immobilized, staring at every inch of skin that was being revealed.

Having his body stripped of clothes seemed to make Atobe glow even more. He knew he was gorgeous. He knew his body was a statuesque perfection. Atobe smirked, wrapping a hand around his own erection and stroking at a languid pace.

"Amazed at ore-sama's perfection, ahn?" asked Atobe. Echizen realized his mouth was open so he closed it, shaking himself out of his stupor.

"Hmph. What perfection?" retorted Echizen.

Atobe's smirk widened. He leaned in close, pressing their naked arousals together and nearly making Echizen moan out loud. "You'll see my magnificent skills in action soon enough. My prowess is second to none," Atobe whispered huskily.

Before Echizen could put in a snarky remark, Atobe's hand fisted both their erection together, slickening them in pre-come. Echizen choked on a gasp.

"Still hard, hm?" said Atobe, rubbing his thumb along the sensitive tip and then going back down to pump it slowly. The light touches drove Echizen wild. The tennis player no longer bothering to conceal his voice as his head thrashed from side to side. Even he could not deny how skilled Atobe's fingers were in dealing the right touches in the right places. Echizen could feel the heat building inside him, hotter than before.

Then Echizen's eyes flew open when he felt his legs being raised.

"What are you doing?" demanded Echizen, seeing Atobe putting his ankles on broad shoulders.

Atobe smiled, his hand leisurely petting Echizen's hip and then lowering to the cleft of his butt. Echizen sucked in a breath.

"Ore-sama should get the same satisfaction out of this, don't you agree? Being the only one to come isn't very polite to your partner," said Atobe. He decided that he had enough of waiting and stuck one dry finger into Echizen without warning.

Echizen welped and cringed, but he took it without complaint. He soon took in the second finger when Atobe began scissoring as well. He wasn't about to cry and back out now. No, then Atobe would win. Echizen Ryoma did not lose at anything whether it was a tennis match or sex. Echizen gave himself a mental note to bring lube next time. One of the downfalls of spontaneous sex was having to use an insufficient amount of pre-come as lubrication.

"God, just put it in," said Echizen after Atobe had inserted a third one. He could feel the three fingers squelching in and out of him without much trouble. He pressed back against them, asking for more.

Atobe looked down, seeing his fingers disappearing back and forth within the puckered flesh. It was an arousing sight, especially when the hole twitched wildly when he pulled his digits out.

"My my, if only your fans could see you like this," said Atobe, running his hands up Echizen's thighs. "Spreading your legs and moaning like a whore."

Echizen glared and kicked Atobe, telling him to get on with it. Atobe finally obliged, grabbing his own member and pumping it a few times. He then leaned forwards, pressing the tip against Echizen's twitching entrance.

"Lucky you; you get to be the first tennis world champion I take," said Atobe. "Consider it an honour."

"I'm overwhelmed with gratitude," came Echizen's sarcastic reply. "And I'll do more than kick you if you don't _hurry up_." Geez, his back was already feeling sore from lying on the hard desk and Atobe had decided upon some maddeningly long foreplay. Echizen wriggled against him, trying to pull him inside, glaring into the Monkey King's face at the same time.

Then finally, in one sharp and sudden move, Atobe plunged in, burying himself in fully and nailing Echizen's prostate dead on. Echizen screamed, his toes curling and his whole body trembling.

"Is that what you wanted?" asked Atobe. He clenched his teeth, feeling the tight heat that surrounded him. It was so good and Atobe had to restrain himself from just pushing out and back in at a rabid pace.

"Well don't stop!" cried out Echizen, feeling that Atobe was completely still within him, only slightly grazing that bundle of nerves deep inside. "Move, damn it!"

Atobe did move, retreating out at the slowest speed possible. Echizen wailed, his cock stirring against his stomach. He snapped at Atobe, yelling at him to get on with it or else he would grab his clothes and go downstairs, where there were dozens of fans who would gladly throw themselves on the nearest bed for him without a moment's hesitation. Once Atobe was nearly out, he jerked his hips back in, starting a punishing pace that had Echizen mewling and gasping. He was hard and rough, giving Echizen exactly what he wanted and shutting up any complaints the smaller had.

And then Atobe slowed down again. Echizen groaned, feeling a sticky pool of pre-come dripping onto his stomach. The brutal pace had been bliss, good enough to keep Echizen from making any coherent sentences for a few minutes.

"Monkey King…" whispered Echizen. His hand reached up, touching a solid chest and moving down until he felt the place where they were connected. Atobe twitched inside him. "God, just… hurry, pl-" Echizen bit his lip, realizing that he had been about to plead to that damn diva. Never in a million years.

Atobe's voice was husky, a low purr that was so undeniably sexy. "What is it, brat?" he asked. "Tell me what you want."

Echizen growled, his glare less than impressive with the massive flush coating his body. "You won't make me beg, idiot."

"Oh?" Atobe thrust back in a few times, assaulting the other's sweet spot before stilling yet again in a torturous pace. "We'll see about that."

Echizen felt like his whole body was hypersensitive, gleaming with a light coat of sweat and just begging to be touched. He tried pressing his hips back but Atobe countered his move, pulling back at the same time. Atobe then grabbed Echizen's wrists, pinning them against the desk, above the tennis player's head. Echizen was, in every definitely of the word, screwed.

He squirmed but Atobe's grip was relentless; he knew he was trapped. Those cool eyes stared at Echizen, patiently waiting for Echizen to plead. Atobe made sure to move, slowly with the occasional violent thrust that had Echizen shaking and panting for a few seconds.

"I can keep doing this for a long time, you know," said Atobe.

"B-Bastard…" Echizen cursed his small stature. His body was completely pinned down. He could feel his peak approaching then retreating, a growing tide just waiting to reach its limit. Echizen wouldn't beg… he wouldn't… but as Atobe repeated the antagonizing cycle with Echizen finding no way out of it, the idea of pleading started sounding better and better.

No... Don't give in. That's exactly what Atobe wants you to do, he thought, internally screaming at himself to keep his guard up. But again, his hazy, lust-ridden mind couldn't think of a way out of this that didn't involve spending hours pinned down against the wooden desk. Atobe seem one hundred percent serious about keeping him here for as long as necessary.

"Che…" groaned Echizen, feeling his pride slipping out of his grasp as minutes ticked by. Atobe thrust slowly, grazing his sweet spot over and over. Echizen's muscles tightened and loosened, back and forth.

"Yes?" asked Atobe.

Don't stop," pleaded Echizen, his eyes rolling back. "Don't… stop… _ahh_."

Atobe soon accepted that that was as close to begging as he would get. That and there was also the fact that Echizen's clenching muscles felt amazingly tight on his cock. Atobe knew he wouldn't last long as this rate. However, he would definitely not be the one to orgasm before the cocky little brat.

Atobe gave in to the gripping need, letting go of Echizen's wrists to hold his waist as he plunged in and out. Echizen moaned, his fingers moving up to touch Atobe's sculpted chest, then clinging to equally built arms like his life depended on it.

Neither lasted long with Atobe assaulting the smaller's sweet spot and his hand soon moving up to stroke Echizen's swollen erection, determined to make Echizen finish before him. Within a few strokes, Echizen came, shooting jets of white between their stomachs. Atobe barely had to time to hope none had landed on his desk and papers before he was coming as well, spraying scalping heat inside Echizen.

They lay there panting for a few seconds, Atobe practically collapsed over Echizen, both of them feeling sticky and sweaty. Echizen cringed when he tried to move, knowing his ass and back would be extremely sore tomorrow during practice. Good thing he wasn't in the middle of an important tournament or something. Other than that, Echizen could only hope that Atobe was hiding a huge shower somewhere in his building.

"Move, you're heavy," said Echizen, pushing at Atobe's chest. His back really wanted to get the hell off the desk now. Atobe did just that and Echizen sat up, cringing at the strain on his lower back. "Next time, the couch is the better option."

The comment made Atobe flip his hair back and glow with pride. "Ah, yes, of course you would want a next time. After all, ore-sama's prowess is only the best. Unfortunately, I'm not sure if my schedule has the space for you. I'm very busy, you see."

"Who says I want a next time," said Echizen, scowling. "If this prowess you talk about involves pinning people to desks and not listening to them, then I'll pass." He got up and bent down to pick up his clothes.

"Oh I know you enjoyed it," muttered Atobe under his breath.

Feeling dehydrated, Echizen found his abandoned wine glass and swallowed it all in one shot, grimacing at the taste. Alcohol was only good when mixed with Ponta in his opinion. He looked at himself in the large mirror that was behind the door. Immediately, he realized that he was in a very bad situation.

"A bunch of fans and photographers saw me go upstairs with you," Echizen said, trying and failing at fixing his hair. "Going back down with these wrinkled clothes would start a scandal."

"Not to mention the kiss marks on the back of your neck," added Atobe. Echizen glared back at him, his hand clasping his exposed neck. Atobe continued, "I can let you borrow spare clothes if you wish."

Echizen snorted. "Leaving with you and coming back downstairs in new clothes. The paparazzi will love it." Sometimes being the best tennis player in the world was such a hassle, especially when he had a list of people following him around and trying to get every last detail on his private life.

Atobe rolled his eyes. "Then stay until closing time. Then you can sneak downstairs and exit through the back door."

Echizen sighed. "No good either. It will seem like I stayed overnight with you," he said. Either way, Echizen knew some rumours were bound to start up about him again.

"Not my problem. I distinctly remember it was you who starting flirting with me and chose to follow me upstairs. Now do leave; I have work to do here," said Atobe. He did have to go back down and supervise his employees. He _was _the boss.

Echizen smirked. "Oh, but it is your problem. If a scandal starts, you're in it with me, Monkey King. Your picture will be all over magazines."

Atobe's facial expression turned into a horrified one, full of realization that Echizen was right. There had been many photographers downstairs; many of whom had probably taken a picture of him and Echizen talking then retreating upstairs.

"On the bright side, maybe your establishment will get more popular once it happens." Echizen finished putting on the remainder of his clothes. If his mussed up hair and clothes didn't do it, then the bite marks on his neck would. Those photographers never missed a single detail when it came to Echizen's life.

At least there was a bright side to all this, which was inconveniencing Atobe. Echizen snickered and exited the room, waving good-bye to the frozen man. Revenge would be sweet.

**~o~o~o~**


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: The Imperial Palace Chapter 7**

**Setting: Strip Club AU.**

**Rating: It's R again~**

**Reason: It was about time Perfect Pair came back. So to everyone who was waiting for them: TA-DA!**

**Pairing: The long-awaited(?) Perfect Pair. Sorry it's so short though. D;**

**Warnings: Uncreative content, possible OOC-ness, dat whip, ignored schoolwork, Fuji losing his patience, everyone should just follow Yukimura's example and everything will turn out fine, etc. **

**Disclaimer: Konomi-sensei owns the all.**

**~o~o~o~**

* * *

><p>The Imperial Palace's best stripper bit his nail, his forehead wrinkled in deep thought. Once again, it was the end of another shift in which Fuji had put his heart and soul into making an amazing performance for Tezuka's sake. And once again, the results had been far from satisfactory.<p>

He didn't understand it. By all means, Tezuka should have fallen on his knees in front of him by now. He had planned out Tezuka's seduction perfectly in his mind with the help of the erotic dances, the suggestive invitations and the occasional teasing touches. But it was just taking far too long... nothing was going according to plan. The longer it went on, the less Tezuka seemed to want anything to do with him. Their conversations were growing shorter and Fuji was running out of questions to ask the stoic bartender.

Bottom line was, he needed to act fast.

It was very late and the last drunken clients had just been escorted out of the club. The dancers went backstage to change and go home, the bouncers came in and began sweeping up the mess on the floor, and Tezuka was busy cleaning his own counter. Everything was normal, except for Fuji who remained seated at the far edge of the stage.

Fuji waited, looking at Tezuka all the while. If Tezuka noticed, he did nothing to show it. It took a bit of time but soon enough the dancers were leaving out the front door, waving goodbye to Fuji on the way out. The other employees followed suit minutes later, all of them yawning and looking ready to sleep for hours. Soon everyone had exited the building save for Fuji and Tezuka. Fuji took the chance and stood up, ready to pounce on an unsuspecting Tezuka. He approached the bar, not even bothering to be stealthy about it. Tezuka obviously saw Fuji approaching out of the corner of his eye but said nothing.

It was lucky the bar was a semi-circle against the wall with the only exit being the small space that Fuji was currently blocking. Tezuka could very well jump over the counter if he wanted to escape but that was likely to break many things and cost a mess. Fuji knew Tezuka would not go that far.

Fuji stood there in silence, blocking the way out and waiting for Tezuka to say something, or to even look at him. The seconds ticked by and Tezuka was still cleaning the same spot on the counter, over and over.

"What do I have to do, Tezuka?" said Fuji suddenly, his voice ringing through the empty club.

Tezuka blinked up at him. "What?"

Fuji took a step forward, looking very peeved. "I've done everything, Tezuka Kunimitsu," said Fuji. "I've danced provocatively, stripped practically naked and made my intentions perfectly clear multiple times, yet you continue to elude me." Every point Fuji made was accompanied by a step forward until Fuji was practically pressing Tezuka back against the counter. "What do I have to do to get your interest?"

Tezuka averted his eyes. "It's getting late," he said.

"That's three words, Tezuka. Three irrelevent words. Not good enough," said Fuji. His hands went on either side of Tezuka, trapping him there. The bartender was quickly aware of what little clothing Fuji was wearing, most of it having been stripped off during his last performance before the club closed. The tiny shorts were not much cover for shapely legs and Fuji's upper body was barely hidden by a small towel around his neck. Even if Tezuka had seen him shed clothing for months now, it was a whole different experience to see it up close.

Tezuka was in a big inner turmoil, but his face did little to show it. On the outside, he appeared as calm as always, save for the slight frown in his eyebrows.

Fuji sighed. "Do you not like me then?"

"That's not it…" Tezuka looked off to the side. He shouldn't even be thinking about this. Fuji was so… pretty and attractive and could get any person to go out with him. So why would Fuji want him of all people? Plus, Tezuka really needed to focus on his studies. The only reason he had this job was to pay for tuition. He had no time to indulge in romantic afflictions. Tezuka should be heading home right now to study for his exam in a few hours.

Tezuka swallowed and turned his body away from Fuji. Dammit, he was much bigger than the dancer… he could easily just shove past him and leave. Yet, Tezuka remained in the same place.

"I don't have time for this, Fuji," said Tezuka.

He heard Fuji chuckle from behind him. "Figures. The only time you decide to speak more then five words to me is to reject me," said the dancer. Before Tezuka could say anything more, Fuji was suddenly pressing himself against him. Tezuka could feel Fuji's head laying along his back, arms going around his side. He stiffened, but again didn't push Fuji off.

"Having you do nothing even after I confessed while wearing practically nothing is very insulting, Tezuka." murmured Fuji close to his ear. His hand went to his side, where his costume's accessory was conveniently buckled to his belt. The whip was soft and pliant in his palm. He coaxed Tezuka's arms back without igniting Tezuka's suspicion. But when Tezuka felt the whip wrapping around his wrists and immobilizing them, he turned his head around in a flash.

"What are you doing?" said Tezuka. He tried moving his arms but found them tied back. Fuji chuckled and worked on perfecting his knot, assuring that there was no way Tezuka would get out of the binds. He stepped back for only a second to admire his handiwork, allowing Tezuka to turn back around and face him. "Fuji, what's the meaning of this?" he demanded.

Instead of answering, Fuji turned his full attention to Tezuka's neck, pushing the fabric of his bartender uniform out of the way and sucking at the soft skin he found there. He heard Tezuka's breath hitch and began moving up. His teeth nipped and bit at a supple neck, solid jaw and moving up to taste delicious lips. Tezuka's mouth offered no resistance and opened right up for Fuji's tongue.

Tezuka sighed, tasting and feeling nothing but Fuji. He was reminded of all the teasing he had endured in the last few weeks, of all the enticing stares, the dances, the goddamn sensual way Fuji had of stripping his clothes… Tezuka groaned, feeling a definite tightening in his pants appearing in an instant.

This was bad. Now even his mind was starting to think that staying with a sexy and nearly naked Fuji would be better than going home to study.

"I should… go…" said Tezuka, not sounding very convincing. Fuji smiled against his lips and kissed him again, lazy and unhurried, tasting him meticulously.

"No, I don't think so," said Fuji, leaving no room for disagreements. "I have such nice plans waiting for you." He let his hand trail down, slowly parting the buttons of Tezuka's vest. Tezuka could do nothing about it, with his hands still tied up behind him.

Part of Tezuka wanted to protest the fact that they were at work and who knows what would happen if someone caught them, but then Fuji pulled him away from the counter and out into the open dance floor and Tezuka had no choice but to follow. The place was so empty and wide without the mass of people dancing and socializing everywhere. Every step they took echoed in the whole room.

Just as he wondered where Fuji was taking him, Tezuka saw that they were at the foot of the stage, in front of the stairs. Tezuka frowned when Fuji pushed him up. Why were they going on the stage for?

"Don't worry, Tezuka," cooed Fuji. He guided Tezuka further and then sat him down in the center of the stage, close to the pole in the middle. "I'll give you a nice _private _show." The last of Tezuka's shirt was unbuttoned and pushed back along his arms, stopping at the tied wrists. Fuji stopped to admire the planes of Tezuka's chest from top to bottom. His hands followed his vision, running down along Tezuka's stomach and chest, feeling goosebumps rise on Tezuka's whole body. Then he trailed along the same paths with his mouth, smiling every time he succeeded in drawing out a small noise from Tezuka.

"Fuji…" said Tezuka, breathlessly squirming from the feeling of Fuji's mouth on him. He sounded like he was about to protest again so Fuji kissed him, drawing his tongue out and sucking on it like a piece of candy. Fuji's fingers found stiff nipples and played with them, pinching them hard and harder still when Tezuka began uttering light groans in response.

Oh yes, he had waited far too long to do this, thought Fuji.

"You know, Tezuka," Fuji suddenly stopped everything and stood up, leaving Tezuka panting and restrained on the stage floor. "You are the single most infuriating, maddening, and frustrating person to flirt with. You constantly avoid my advances, you never seem to willingly speak with me… yet here you are, panting at my feet after a few light touches." Fuji approached the pole in the center and ran his hands along it all the while staring back at Tezuka enticingly. "I work hard to make dances you would like… but I never get any positive feedback from you. It just breaks my heart."

Tezuka's throat went dry when Fuji began moving around the pole. He couldn't look away and for the first time he wasn't back at the bar, serving drinks while trying not to stare. No, this time he was right in front of Fuji, clearly able to see every rise and fall of his body, and every drip of sweat that ran down his neck. He let himself look and memorize every second of it. It was a million times more mesmerizing from such a short distance. The way Fuji moved was just breathtaking. His hips were always moving, thrusting against the pole, the air, the floor with quick desperation. His legs, so milky white and flexible, wrapped around the pole or lowered to the ground and spread open for Tezuka's eyes alone.

Fuji smiled coyly, his blue eyes never seeming to leave Tezuka's face. The lithe figure went down on the ground, grinding against the floor as he approached Tezuka on his arms and knees. Tezuka's breath was quick and excited just from seeing Fuji approach, his face promising a great deal of pleasure.

Fuji was soon straddling the taller brunette. "Do you like my dances, Tezuka?" Fuji breathed into Tezuka's ear.

Tezuka swallowed thickly. "I never miss one."

"Oh?" Fuji ran a finger from Tezuka's neck all the way down to the hem of his pants. "Even when you should have been working? What a bad boy you are." Fuji suddenly grasped him through his pants and Tezuka couldn't hold back a gasp. "Your pants might get dirty from being on the ground like this. Should I take them off?"

The way Fuji said _dirty_ made Tezuka want to do some very inappropriate things to the dancer. Fuji didn't wait for an answer and began unzipping Tezuka's pants as slowly as he could. This time Tezuka could hardly hide his arousal, straining against his boxer-briefs.

Fuji grinded their hips together in that marvellously fluid way, exactly like he would do during his dance numbers.

"Ne, Tezuka, do you think of me sometimes?" asked Fuji. "Do you think of us doing things like this together?"

_Yes!_ Tezuka's thoughts screamed but his mouth seemed unable to utter coherent sentences. Yes, he thought of it far more often than he would like to admit, often in times when he should be focussing on other things like his job. He would always remember Fuji's soft lips, his flawless skin and god, the way he _moved his hips_.

"I think of it often," said Fuji. "Of kissing you… feeling you against me… and touching you."

Tezuka couldn't hold back his groan upon hearing those words. The sound encouraged Fuji to press closer and let his lips meet Tezuka's. Any hesitation he had about Tezuka not liking him vanished in an instant when he saw how eagerly Tezuka returned the kiss.

Even if Tezuka's wrists were bound, that didn't stop him from savouring Fuji's mouth thoroughly. He put in the weeks of sexual frustration and teasing he had to endure in that deep open-mouthed kiss.

At that triumphant moment, Fuji began remembering Yukimura's words of advice, hints and suggestions the bluenette had given him weeks ago regarding Tezuka.

_Make him want you, so much that he can't take it anymore. Work him up until he begs for your touch. Please him so well that he'll have nothing but you on his mind. Make him unable to resist returning for more come another day._

He pushed his hand inside Tezuka's briefs, coming in direct contact with the heated flesh contained within. Tezuka made a noise that was half a protest and half a moan before he tried retreating, looking unsure.

"Just let go, Tezuka," said Fuji. "Only for tonight, let yourself feel." He stroked Tezuka, firmly gripping the aching flesh. Tezuka unconsciously pressed back and then looked away as if embarrassed. Fuji chuckled. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, Tezuka."

Even so, Tezuka couldn't help but feel embarrassed. He opened his mouth and shut it again, failing to speak because Fuji was touching him and god, it never felt this good when he did it to himself. He was filled with contradictions, both knowing he shouldn't be here and doing this but also having a burning desire for more of the pleasure Fuji was giving him.

The dancer worked at removing the briefs, sliding them down muscular thighs and down to his ankles. Tezuka could feel the burn of Fuji's stare and it made him squirm uncomfortably.

"Don't stare," choked out Tezuka.

Fuji smiled. "Again, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. The sight is more than impressive," he said, sporting a rather appreciative look. He then dipped his head down, reaching out to delicately kiss the skin of Tezuka's inner thigh. He sucked on the skin, moving up and nipping at the indent where leg met groin.

Every sound, every small gasp and choked moan Tezuka made was like a victory to Fuji, fuelling his desire for the bartender even more. Finally, Fuji stopped the teasing and moved on. He held Tezuka's shaft and kissed the head. Slowly, his mouth opened and descended, taking more and more inside.

Tezuka's mouth opened in a silent cry. As embarrassed as he was, he couldn't look away from the hypnotizing sight of his erection sliding deeper and deeper inside Fuji's mouth. The sight was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. Fuji hummed around him and Tezuka gasped loudly, nearly losing it right there. He couldn't think anymore. The only thing he knew was that he needed more, so so much _more,_ more of that heat, more suction, more Fuji.

Tezuka could feel fingers running down and caressing his swollen balls, all the while Fuji's mouth never ceased its ministrations. His hips rocked in place, making his cock slide between Fuji's lips and giving him amazing friction. Before he could get any warning out, Tezuka was coming, the blissful sensation taking over him in waves and shocks of electricity. Tezuka was pretty sure he had made a sound, a loud cry that echoed throughout the room, but he was past the point of caring.

Fuji gave him a smouldering look that made Tezuka's heart beat faster than it already was.

He lay on the ground panting as Fuji cleaned him off. The position was uncomfortable, with his tied hands digging painfully into his back.

"Can you untie me?" said Tezuka, his voice gone hoarse. He blinked the haze away from his vision, feeling the blissful sensation that came after orgasm wearing off.

Fuji pursed his lips. "How about a thank you kiss instead?" he asked.

Tezuka stared straight at him. "Why should I thank you for tying me up and then forcing yourself on me?"

Fuji felt an ice cold knot form inside him. He swallowed thickly, suddenly afraid that he had misread everything. Tezuka… was he mad? But... Tezuka definitely seemed like he had enjoyed it. He hadn't said no, but he hadn't really said yes either. Fuji unbounded Tezuka's arms, throwing the whip aside and watching as the bartender massaged his wrists, bringing blood flow back into his hands. Fuji looked down. Maybe this had been a bad idea after all.

"Where are my clothes?" asked Tezuka. Fuji opened his mouth and then closed it, instead choosing to gather up the loose pieces of clothing himself and giving them back to Tezuka. The bartender slowly re-dressed himself and Fuji felt worse and worse by the second. He shouldn't have done it. Tezuka was probably mad and would now never speak to him again.

Fuji couldn't take the silence anymore. He opened his mouth to voice an apology.

"Tezuka, I'm sorr-"

He was cut off when Tezuka suddenly grabbed his chin and kissed him, plundering his mouth not-so-gently. Once the surprise had faded, Fuji closed his eyes and moaned into the kiss, letting Tezuka's lips move in that hypnotizing fashion. Tezuka ended it with a sharp bite to Fuji's bottom lip.

Fuji yelped, massaging his bruised lip. "What was that for?"

Tezuka coughed. "I… had fun," he said lowly. "But next time you decide to do that, make sure I don't have an important exam to take in a few hours."

Fuji's eyes lit up brightly. His apology was soon forgotten and he practically tackled Tezuka back down, giggling and kissing him everywhere like a ridiculous girl.

"A change of setting might also be good," added Tezuka.

"Anything you want," agreed Fuji, high with happiness and hugging him tighter.

Tezuka knew he would not be getting a very high grade on his exam today, but he thought that perhaps it might have been worth it in the end.

**~o~o~o~**


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: The Imperial Palace Chapter 8**

**Setting: Strip Club AU.**

**Rating: That high one up there.**

**Reason: I'm a bad person.**

**Pairing: ALPHAAAA PAIR.**

**Warnings: Uncreative content, possible OOC-ness, I will take your heart and rip it in two, does anyone even read this?, don't hate me, etc. **

**Disclaimer: Konomi-sensei owns a strip club. I mean Prince of tennis. Same thing.**

**~o~o~o~**

* * *

><p>Yukimura looked at his reflection in the mirror, staring very intentively at every small detail on his face. He looked at himself from several different angles, standing up and he then tried to look at his backside too. He picked up his comb and brushed a few stray hairs back in place before repeating his body inspection.<p>

Today was going to go fine, he kept repeating to himself. Sanada won't be able to resist him this time. He was an appealing young man and his new jeans made his ass look sexy. He knew investing in new clothes had been a good idea.

"Judging by the way you are gussying yourself up, you have a date tonight," said Fuji.

Yukimura could sense Fuji's smile behind him, and sure enough, a quick look to the mirror showed him Fuji's smiling reflection.

"So what if I do?" asked Yukimura.

"Don't tease him, Fuji," said Shiraishi from his position on the messy couch. From what Yukimura could see of Shiraishi's reflection, Shiraishi was not wearing any clothes. As usual. "I think it's nice that Yukimura has a boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend," gritted Yukimura for what felt like the millionth time today. His hair refused to stay in place no matter how many times he tucked the same loose strands back in.

"No?" Shiraishi sounded confused. "But you've gone on several dates with him."

"Six dates to be exact," added Fuji.

"I know," said Yukimura. "But it's not like that. I mean, sure Sanada-kun is nice but it's not anything serious."

"Ah… that's a shame," said Shiraishi, sounding a little bit doubtful about what Yukimura was saying. If anything, Yukimura had certainly been acting like a lovestruck girl for several days now.

"Sanada-kun is his sex friend whom he hasn't had sex with yet," said Fuji, chuckling.

"Shut up, Fuji," said Yukimura in a dangerously low tone. God, how many times must he tell Fuji to stop sprouting such nonsense?

"I'm merely stating the obvious," said Fuji. "I stand by what I've said since the first date: You should give him a chance."

Yukimura scowled at his reflection._ Commitment_. The word still did not settle well with him.

"Well… things will work out if they were meant to," said Shiraishi, seeing Yukimura's uneasy eyes. "If Yukimura wants to be cautious, then it's his business."

"Thank you, Shiraishi." said Yukimura, sighing with relief. "Fuji, go bother Tezuka or someone else please."

"Oh, don't be so cold. I simply wish to guide you upon the right path," said Fuji.

Yukimura stood up from the chair in front of the vanity, giving up on his hair. He was set on not being late to his date this time around. "I can look after myself thank you. Since you care so very much, let me tell you that I am sleeping over at Sanada-kun's house tonight. And I do mean in the same bed." said Yukimura.

"Are you sure it won't be like the last six dates where you said the exact same thing and-"

"No. I mean it this time," said Yukimura. He was through waiting and lusting after Sanada but unable to do anything. He had always let Sanada off the hook before but this was not why he was going on these dates. He needed something to happen _now. _From day one, Yukimura had made his intentions very clear. Yukimura was not letting Sanada back out this time. "Sanada-kun promised me. Now leave me alone."

"You'll give us all the details later, won't you?" said Fuji, being very persistent. "Every little detail."

Yukimura scowled back at his two roommates, who were both smiling at him very unnervingly. "Are you going to leave me alone about this or do I need to request a room change?"

"Aw, we just want to know if your boyfriend will be good in bed or not," said Fuji. "He_ is_ a virgin, isn't he?"

"Be quiet, Fuji." Yukimura's tone was obviously annoyed and it only caused both Fuji and Shiraishi to giggle like teenage girls.

"Make sure to use protection and a lot of lubrication," said Shiraishi. "Do you have some? I can give you some if you don't have-"

"It's fine!" Gosh, Yukimura had all of those things ready since their first date. He was more than prepared.

Yukimura decided to leave at that moment before Fuji and Shiraishi could tease him any further. He closed the door behind him, still able to hear the sound of muffled giggles in the hallway.

All Yukimura wanted to do at that point was to get to Sanada's apartment, skip all the talking and eating and jump straight to the part where he would finally be able to ravish Sanada. He had been waiting for so long, much longer than he had thought he would be willing to wait, and now he was at his limit. Weeks of fantasy were soon going to turn into reality. But really, Fuji was just silly to be trying to push him and Sanada together. Yukimura liked Sanada quite a bit, but he had no plans to actually date him long-term. Perhaps they could spend a few months together until the magic wore off and they could then move on with their lives. It wasn't like they were lovers or anything and Yukimura was comfortable with it staying that way. No lovers meant no heartbreaks.

Yukimura left his workplace in a hurry. It was very dark and chilly outside and Yukimura was very grateful that Sanada was willing to adapt to his late schedule and not mind his tardy arrivals. Sometimes Sanada even made him an early breakfast whenever Yukimura came over to his apartment in the middle of the night after his shift. Sanada was a surprisingly good cook.

Yukimura was also grateful to Yanagi, Sanada's roommate, for letting him come over so often. Yanagi was friendly, didn't disturb them and had the great ability to leave the room whenever he sensed Yukimura wanted a bit of make-out time with Sanada.

At least today he would be getting much more than a bit of make-out time. Yukimura walked faster each time his mind eagerly thought about what was waiting for him only a few streets away.

Yukimura was running by the time he reached Sanada's building. He sprinted up the stairs and eagerly knocked on the door, out of breath.

Sanada opened the door and saw Yukimura hunched against the wall, panting for breath.

"Are you alright?" asked Sanada, concern immediately rising into his voice.

"I'm fine," said Yukimura, breathy. He looked up at Sanada and felt his whole body growing warmer. "Actually, I'm even better than fine." He stepped forward and kissed Sanada's mouth with as much fervour and passion as he could. He hoped that would get the message across clearly.

"Oh," Sanada breathed when Yukimura pulled back with a coy smile. "Yeah, I guess you are fine after all."

Yukimura chuckled. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" Sanada's apartment looked empty from here. That was a good sign. Sanada stepped aside and let Yukimura enter.

"How was your day?" asked Sanada. He took Yukimura's jacket and put it up in the nearby closet.

"Lovely," answered Yukimura. He eyed Sanada's backside. His hand crawled up and traced up Sanada's side, caressing a solid chest through a thin shirt.

"G-Good," spluttered Sanada, appearing quite jumpy at Yukimura's sudden generous amount of affection. "Uh, are you hungry? I could make you something to eat if you want."

"I am hungry, yes." Yukimura attached his lips to the back of Sanada's neck and sucked hard.

"I can make you… curry or, uh… eggs if you want."

Yukimura smirked against Sanada's skin. "Not food. I'd much prefer to eat you, _Sanada_," he said, husky.

The bluenette was not at all happy when Sanada choked and stepped out of his arms. Any other passionate man would have growled sexily and kissed him senseless against the nearest piece of furniture. Yukimura tried not to look too peeved and instead remembered that he was dealing with an inexperienced man who was appearing very unsure about everything as usual.

"Nervous?" asked Yukimura.

Sanada sighed, nodding his head. "I guess. I'm sorry," he murmured.

"So long as you don't back out again," said Yukimura with a slight frown. "You promised me."

"I won't break my promise," said Sanada, quickly assuring the bluenette. "I know I can't keep on dodging it forever. I could wait an eternity and still feel nervous, so I think it would be best to do it now. Besides," he stroked Yukimura's cheek lovingly, "I'm very glad you waited this long for me."

"Everyone's nervous for their first time," said Yukimura. "You have nothing to worry about. I don't expect a mind-blowing experience."

Sanada cocked his head to the side. "You don't think I'll have any skills?"

"Far from that. I simply believe in practice makes perfect," explained Yukimura. "And I slowly want to find out what you like, what makes you hiss, what makes you arch and moan and what makes you _scream_ my name in pleasure."

Sanada did moan at that, at Yukimura's promising tone and the way his hand found its way up his shirt. He felt Yukimura's lips massaging his neck again, planting sucking kissing on that sensitive spot under his ear.

"Bed?" whispered Yukimura.

"No, ahh… _kitchen_," panted out Sanada.

Yukimura looked at him, confused. "Kitchen?" Did Sanada want to do it in the kitchen? Yukimura couldn't imagine it would be too comfortable.

"I mean," Sanada paused to swallow and regain his breath. "I need tea."

Yukimura rolled his eyes. Sometimes Sanada could be so infuriating yet so terribly endearing at the same time. "Fine," he said, knowing Sanada wanted tea to calm himself down. Yukimura kissed his cheek and let him go off in the kitchen. "But that better be the last time you stall tonight."

"Yes sir," said Sanada.

Yukimura couldn't help but smile and quickly forgive Sanada. Yukimura was pretty sure it was because he was weak to Sanada's puppy eyes. He sat down at the kitchen table and watched Sanada's broad back as he fixed some tea with shaky hands.

"I trust you got everything ready in advance?" said Yukimura.

"Well, I cleaned the sheets today," said Sanada.

"No, I'm asking if you have lube and condoms."

Yukimura could see Sanada turning bright red even with his back turned.

"O-Oh, I-I didn't really… I-I mean I can go get some n-now," stuttered the raven-haired man.

Yukimura gave a small laugh. "No need. I anticipated this and brought everything." Yukimura dug through his pocket and pulled out a tube of cream and a small square package. "See, all prepared."

"Y-Yes, I can see that," said Sanada, looking like he would do anything to avoid having this conversation right now.

"I do hope the condom isn't too tight. I bought a larger size for you, since I do remember how well endowed you are," said Yukimura with a pleasant wink, stuffing the items back in his pants.

"A-Ah… um, can we not talk about this at the table?" asked Sanada. He took the teapot and poured two cups of hot tea in cups, spilling some drops on his fingers and hissing at the burn. "T-Tea is ready."

Yukimura's smirk took on a wicked edge. "You are far too innocent, Sanada," he said. "Thank you for the tea."

Sanada snorted. "Too innocent? Is that why you want to deflower me so soon?"

Yukimura paused in the middle of blowing on his hot beverage. "Deflower? What are you, some teenage girl?"

"No, I've just been wondering why you seem to be in such a rush to do this," said Sanada. Yukimura opened his mouth but Sanada held up his hand. "I know, I know this is my first relationship of this kind but you've been eager to go at it since day one and I just want to know why the idea of going slowly and getting to know each other better is so repulsive to you."

"What, don't you want to know if we have chemistry in the bedroom?" asked Yukimura. "Isn't it better to find out each other's good and bad assets now rather than later?"

Sanada frowned. "Perhaps, but I have good assets that don't involve the bedroom, you know," he said. "Does this mean you won't be interested in seeing me anymore if my skills in bed are bad?" Well, that was a lovely way to increase the amount of pressure Sanada already felt.

"Don't be silly," said Yukimura, waving him off. "I told you already; I don't expect you to be perfect during your first time. Which is why getting this first time over with is good. That way the next times will be better. Call it training if you would like."

"Training?" Sanada gave a humourless laugh. "You make it sound like I'm a lab rat. _Excuse me_ for trying to achieve a solid emotional connection with you before moving on to such an intimate act."

Yukimura crossed his arms. This was not what he signed up for. "Has it occurred to you that I do not want a so-called solid emotional connection?" snapped the dancer. "I swear, this better not be an attempt to get out of sleeping with me again. If the idea of sharing a bed with me is that repulsive to you, then I'll just leave right now." Yukimura's chair scrapped back as he stood up, anger marring his facial features.

Sanada jumped to his feet as well. "No, wait, I'm sorry," he said, walking around the table and grabbing Yukimura's hand. "Sorry for making you upset. I think it's just the nerves talking."

Yukimura pursed his lips.

"It's just, you are so beautiful and sure of yourself and I'm just… me," said Sanada. "I'm afraid I won't be up to par with your expectations."

"Flattery with get you nowhere with me, Sanada-kun," warned Yukimura, though his lips did twitch up at the word _beautiful_.

"Oh!" Sanada looked up as if just now remembering something. "Wait right here, there's something important I forgot," he said, dodging back to his bedroom in a hurry. Yukimura stood there blinking, wondering what on earth was so important that Sanada had to rush away fast like that.

He got his answer when Sanada returned to the kitchen, holding an enormous bouquet of roses and a shy smile on his face.

"Idiot, this was the important thing you forgot?" Despite Yukimura's sharp tone, his eyes melted when they caught sight of the elaborate design of flowers. He picked them up from Sanada's hand. "You didn't have to do this, you know. I was going to sleep with you either way."

"I know, but I like seeing you smile," murmured Sanada, tilting his head around the roses to kiss Yukimura's lips sweetly. "Are you still angry with me now?"

Yukimura shot him a sarcastic look. "You play dirty, Sanada," he said. "But... yes, my anger has somewhat dissipated. Just so you know for next time, getting me orchids would have made my anger completely disappear in mere seconds."

Sanada chuckled and kissed him deeply again. "I'll keep that in mind. I just thought roses would be more romantic."

Yukimura hadn't been too keen about Sanada's romantic side in the beginning. Even now, Yukimura didn't like how Sanada kept on spoiling him with pointless gifts, mostly because Yukimura knew he wasn't doing anything to deserve such presents. But still, another side of Yukimura couldn't help but feel giddy whenever Sanada did these romantic gestures. Yukimura supposed he really did have a weak side when it came to Sanada.

The flowers were quickly tossed to the side as Yukimura wrapped his arms around the taller man's neck in order to kiss him passionately. The tea, now gone cold, was quickly forgotten. Sanada stumbled back from the intensity of the kiss, barely even managing to kiss back for how hard Yukimura was pressing at his lips.

Then, Yukimura's knee pressed up, rubbing teasingly against the front of Sanada's pants.

"Bed," said Yukimura, pulling at Sanada's shirt. This time it wasn't a question. It was a demand.

"W-Wait a second," said Sanada when Yukimura began pulling him in the direction of the bedroom.

"No, Sanada, I will not _wait_," said Yukimura, impatient. "Bed. _Now_." God, it had been weeks of patience and abstinence and Yukimura wanted to claim his prize.

"B-But I haven't showered," said Sanada in protest.

"You'll be dirty soon anyways," replied Yukimura.

"No, but I-I smell and I'm sure you don't want to do this with someone who hasn't showered," said Sanada. Yukimura didn't need to know that Sanada had already showered four times today.

Yukimura gave Sanada the dirtiest look he could muster. "Flowers are not going to get you out of this one, Sanada," he said, poking Sanada's chest hard. The bluenette opened the bedroom door, turning his head to shoot a final glare at Sanada. "You have five minutes to shower, Sanada. If you aren't in bed, ravishing me in five minutes then I can find a better use for my time." He then closed the door behind him, his threat resounding in the room.

Yukimura sighed against the door the moment he was inside Sanada's room. He could hear Sanada bolting to the washroom and the sound of the shower spray being turned on only seconds later. That hopeless idiot...

Sanada was taking this much too seriously, thought Yukimura. What with the wanting a deep connection and giving him flowers like that… really, there was nothing special about it. Yukimura was as horny as he had been for weeks now. He knew Sanada was nervous about this, but there was a limit to how nervous one can be. Really, Sanada was acting like he was about to jump into a lion pit.

Yukimura walked deeper inside the room, trailing his hands of the bed covers. The bed was quite small, clearly not made for two people. Yukimura's own apartment had a larger bed but he was not planning on bringing Sanada over to his place anytime soon. Sanada didn't even know where Yukimura lived.

Yukimura sighed and tapped his nails impatiently on the headboard. He ended up pondering over small decisions as Sanada finished his short shower.

Should he take off his clothes now? The thought of Sanada taking them off for him was appealing, but that might end with Sanada stalling for more time. Yukimura was ready and wanted it as fast as possible, so he stripped off his clothes, carelessly tossing them aside without a care about where they landed.

Or at least he didn't care until his shirt nearly knocked over an unlit candle. Yukimura looked around the room then, noticing how many candles were layered about. He snorted. Was Sanada actually planning on _lighting candles_? Sanada was even more of a romantic sap than Yukimura had thought.

He lay on the bed, stretching out appreciatively on the clean sheets. He could hear the shower being turned off and soon Sanada's footsteps were coming closer, stopping outside the bedroom door. Yukimura waited a few seconds but Sanada did not open the door and walk in.

"Sanada, I know you're right there," snapped Yukimura, rolling his eyes. Patient he was not. "Get in here, for god's sake."

That reproach earned him a slow twist of the doorknob. Then, Sanada entered the bedroom.

Yukimura fought back the urge to facepalm. "You put your clothes back on?" he said, shaking his head at Sanada's logic. "Sanada, we're about to have sex. Your clothes could have stayed in the washroom."

"A-Ah, I'm sorry, I didn't really…" Sanada words trailed off and Yukimura was pleased to see why. Sanada's eyes darkened in lust as they ran up the sight of Yukimura's naked body on his bed. Yukimura stretched out again, smiling at the effect he had on the raven-haired man.

"Come here," purred Yukimura.

And for once, Sanada didn't hesitate. There was no more talk about showers or lighting candles. All that ran through Sanada's mind was how beautiful and sexy Yukimura looked, right there on his bed and just waiting to be touched.

"You're so beautiful," muttered Sanada.

Yukimura shuddered at the first warm touch to his cool body. Sanada touched Yukimura as if he were a translucent treasure, a faraway dream he had thought would never come true. Sanada looked near-irresistible with his dark eyes and damp hair sticking to his face. But Yukimura bet that Sanada would look even better without the clothes. Yukimura pulled at the material of Sanada's shirt, a silent demand that Sanada understood right away. Yukimura could only stare, hypnotized, as Sanada threw his shirt off, revealing a beautifully sculpted abdomen. Sanada stripped the rest of his garments off quickly, nearly ripping out his pants' button in his hurry. All Yukimura was thinking about was how long it had been since he'd last shared a bed with anyone and how badly he wanted to kiss and touch every inch of Sanada's body, to worship Sanada with his mouth and feel him squirming because of him.

Of course, what Yukimura wanted, Yukimura got.

"Lie down, Sanada," said Yukimura, voice gone husky. The dancer made room for Sanada, allowing him to lie down along the covers. Yukimura took his own place on top of Sanada's muscular thighs. From this position, he was able to rake his nails down Sanada's torso and watch every flicker of emotion run through Sanada's face.

Yukimura began his trek from the top. He kissed Sanada's lips and slid down along his neck. He was generous with his mouth, sucking on the tanned skin and leaving plenty of marks. Yukimura held onto Sanada's broad shoulders as he worked his way down. He stopped to lick at brown nipples, enjoying the soft sighs coming from Sanada with every swipe of his tongue.

Sanada's stomach was much more ticklish. Sanada was squirming and breathlessly laughing when Yukimura's fingers and mouth explored the area of his abdomen. When Yukimura touched lower still, where the skin turned smooth and soft, Sanada groaned out, "Yuki-mura… _aah_."

Yukimura paused in the middle of nipping at a jutted hipbone. "Mm?"

"F-Feels good," said Sanada, swallowing thickly.

Yukimura smiled. "I'm glad."

He spread Sanada's knees, casting a glance at the twitching half-hard member. Yukimura kissed Sanada's thigh, moving closer to his groin with every passing second. Yukimura teased him until Sanada's inner thighs shook from anticipation. He then lightly blew on Sanada's cock.

"A-Aah…"

"Sanada," Yukimura looked up at Sanada's closed eyes. "Remember the night we first met? When I sucked you?" Sanada wordlessly nodded, his breathing gone ragged. "Do you want me to do that again?"

The color rose in Sanada's cheeks and his cock twitched in interest. "Yes, please," he whispered. Sanada had imagined how this experience would be like many times in his mind. And in all of Sanada's fantasies, he had always been on top, driving Yukimura insane with his touches and knowing exactly what to do. The reality was much different as Sanada lay there, letting Yukimura play with his body as he pleased. Sanada could only lay there and moan loudly as Yukimura dragged his tongue up his dick, teasing him with fleeting touches and moving up to swirl his tongue around his foreskin.

He was mesmerized by the sight of Yukimura taking him in deeper, sometimes looking up and meeting his eyes. Yukimura massaged his strained balls and bobbed his head. At this rate, Sanada knew he wouldn't last long. Already he could feel the heat and pressure drawing him out.

"Wait, Y-Yuki-" he gasped out.

Yukimura stopped, letting the pulsing flesh slip from his lips. "What?"

"I-I can't hold it in anymore," said Sanada, looking embarrassed.

"Already?" said Yukimura.

"I'm sorry…" Sanada gave him an apologetic look.

"It can't be helped then," said Yukimura. He moved up and captured his lips in another searing kiss. Yukimura slipped off the bed then, looking around for something. Before Sanada could ask what he was doing, Yukimura had picked up his shorts and was digging through his pockets for the items he had showed Sanada earlier.

"Here we go," said Yukimura, sitting back down on the bed. Sanada sat up at attention too. "Do you know what to do, Sanada?"

Well Yukimura only had one hole to put it in so Sanada figured it wouldn't be that difficult. He nodded, looking very determined about it. Sanada surprised Yukimura by taking the initiative and grabbing the tube from the dancer's hand. Sanada poured a generous amount of the lubricant on his hand.

Smiling, Yukimura settled down on the bed, holding his legs spread wide enough to give Sanada a perfect view of his ass. Sanada gulped, pausing to gather up his courage. He made sure his three fingers were amply soaked with the lotion and then he carefully reached out and touched Yukimura.

The first touch to Yukimura's entrance felt cool. Sanada carefully rubbed over the entrance multiple times. Yukimura took deep breaths to relax himself. It had been a long time since he had last done this with anyone so it was probably going to be slightly painful at first. Sanada looked at Yukimura questionably, as if asking if this was okay. Yukimura gave him a nod of affirmation and then Sanada's finger slowly pushed in.

Yukimura gasped at the first breech, feeling the finger enter him fully. He could feel it rubbing inside him, curious and searching.

"Does it hurt?" asked Sanada, misinterpreting Yukimura's sounds.

"No," said Yukimura, holding his legs up wider. "It's fine, Sanada. Just go slowly." There was the sensation of pressure inside him, but nothing painful, not even after Sanada had swirled his finger around and added a second one. Yukimura didn't feel anything he would describe as painful, but not really pleasurable either.

"Make sure you stretch me," said Yukimura. Sanada paused in his finger's thrusts to heed Yukimura's advice. He began scissoring the inner walls apart. Yukimura hissed at the slight flare of pain.

"Sorry!" squeaked Sanada. He appeared mortified at the fact that he had hurt Yukimura even just a bit.

"It's alright," said Yukimura. "I'm not some fragile maiden, Sanada."

"A-Ah." Sanada frowned back into focus, pushing in and out with long strokes. This was making him excited, his breathing faster than normal from feeling how tight Yukimura was and wondering how it would feel to be connected with him there soon.

Finally, he added his third finger and worked on pumping faster. Yukimura shifted slightly.

"Sanada, aim just a bit higher," said Yukimura.

Sanada didn't get why, but he listened, striking his finger up at a higher angle. The moment he did, Yukimura arched and moaned loudly. "A-Aah! T-There Sanada…!" he managed to say, quivering as his sweet spot was touched.

Sanada panted, suddenly a whole lot more aroused from seeing Yukimura moaning wantonly from his fingers alone. He made sure to strike that small bundle of nerves over and over again, marvelling at the strong effect it had.

"Touch my dick too," gasped out Yukimura. Sanada flushed at the command, but again he obeyed without complaint. He gripped Yukimura's erection with his other hand and pumped, handling Yukimura the same way he often handled his own package when he was alone in his bedroom at night. Sanada's erection rubbed against Yukimura's leg, smearing a trail of pre-come in his attempt to get some sort of friction on his cock.

But just hearing Yukimura's moans of pleasure was making Sanada's arousal levels spike amazingly high. He was looking at Yukimura, everywhere from his swollen lips to his pink nipples and his darkened cock, when it suddenly became too much. Sanada whimpered as he came all over Yukimura's leg.

Sanada sighed, slumping forward and ceasing his hands' motions.

Yukimura clicked his tongue, touching the ejaculate on his leg. "Sanada, you are supposed to come inside of me, not during foreplay," he said, almost scolding.

"I-I'm sorry," said Sanada. He couldn't help it. Yukimura was so beautiful, a lustful vixen made for seducing him.

Yukimura pouted. He had been ready to be fucked hard and fast into the mattress, but he couldn't do that now that Sanada had gone limp. Yukimura reached out and tugged on Sanada's manhood, eager to make it swell again. Sanada choked at the feeling of Yukimura's fingers wrapping on his now over-sensitive member.

Sanada felt like he was doing nothing right, like everything he did served to make Yukimura angry. He ended up clinging to Yukimura, hugging him tightly and dropping kisses on his cheeks in an apologetic gesture. He was already unbelievably lucky that he had someone as beautiful as Yukimura as his boyfriend, but now he was ruining their first time. The guilt tugged at him.

Yukimura closed his eyes and kissed Sanada back. Sanada really did look like he felt bad about this.

"Sanada, don't worry too much," said Yukimura. "Just relax and do what feels good. No pressure, okay?"

"Nn…" Sanada reached a hand between them and grabbed both their members. He worked on stroking them together, feeling Yukimura's pre-ejaculate dripping down to his thighs. Yukimura gasped when Sanada reached further to touch that sensitive spot behind his balls.

"Does it feel good?" asked Sanada, his dark brown eyes looking into Yukimura's face for confirmation. It looked like Yukimura was enjoying himself so Sanada rubbed harder, making Yukimura shiver against him.

"Yes," hissed the dancer. "_Ooh_, yes."

Again, that irresistable tone sent blood shooting straight to Sanada's cock. Their mouths met again and Sanada realized he was hard once more, achingly so. Yukimura was mewling, the sound making Sanada groan loudly in response. Sanada blindly reached around him for the condom. He caught the small package and ripped it open. Yukimura watched him put it on with lust-filled eyes.

"I'm ready," said Sanada. Yukimura nodded. Yukimura reached for the tube and soaked Sanada's cock with the lubricant for final touches.

He laid Yukimura down on the bed gently, ready to look at Yukimura's face as they made love. Sanada wanted to see every single emotion and feeling cross Yukimura's face. He wanted to feel Yukimura's pleasure become his own until they could no longer think straight.

Yukimura held his breath when he felt Sanada's tip brush his entrance. He nodded again and that was all the confirmation Sanada needed to push in.

A whimper escaped Yukimura's lips as he felt himself being stretched much more than before. Sanada at least had the good sense to keep still while Yukimura adjusted. Instead of apologizing like he often did, Sanada leaned down and kissed Yukimura sweetly instead. Sanada's expression was one of bliss and pure joy, as if he couldn't believe he was doing this and how good it felt. He nuzzled against Yukimura's neck.

"Are you alright?" asked Sanada, voice hoarse.

"Yes, I'm fine," said Yukimura. He wriggled a bit and Sanada breathed in sharply. "You can move."

The first thrust out and back in had Yukimura groaning in pain. Sanada whispered something that sounded like "you feel so good, Yukimura". He held onto Yukimura's hips like a lifeline as he grew bolder in his thrusts. Yukimura wrapped his legs around Sanada, his nails scrapping against Sanada's back. The sound of skin slapping on skin echoed in the room. The process was getting smoother now, with the pain fading away and Sanada building a strong rhythm.

Sanada kept on kissing him too; affectionate pecks were given to Yukimura's lips, his cheeks and his jaw.

And then Sanada angled upward, wiping any coherent thought Yukimura had.

Yukimura's back arched off the bed as he screamed. Sanada had struck his prostate head on and was not slowing down. Yukimura's eyes rolled in the back of his head. He couldn't think, all he could feel were the overwhelming sensations of pleasure running through his whole body and lighting all of his nerves on fire. Sanada gritted his teeth, feeling Yukimura clamping down on him so tightly that he almost lost it.

"Haa… Sana-da, ohh- _yes!"_ Yukimura didn't know what he was saying, only managing to grip to Sanada's back as if he were grabbing on for his dear life. The moans spilled out of him in waves, one overlapping into the next, chanting Sanada's name in a wanton plea for more. It was so good. It was mind-blowing. The sensations were just too much. He didn't know if it was because he had been waiting so long for this or if Sanada was just that good, but Yukimura was already going to lose it.

Sanada's punishing pace didn't let up, always faster, harder, _stronger_. "Sana… I'm close," panted out Yukimura. "I'm close, don't stop, please Sanada."

Sanada could feel Yukimura tightening around him, almost to the point of pain, and he knew he was going to reach his peak soon too. They were clinging to each other desperately, their moans rising in volume as they approached climax.

He looked at Yukimura, seeing every muscle in the bluenette's body go rigid, his face contorting to one of pure raw pleasure.

"I love you, Yukimura," whispered Sanada.

Yukimura's eyes went wide upon hearing those heartfelt words and he screamed out as he reached his peak, the waves of pleasure crashing him down to a moaning mess. Sanada followed close after, letting out his own pleasured sound as he emptied himself.

Yukimura could feel Sanada panting, catching his breath and kissing his neck affectionately again. The bluenette's eyes were wide in horror, Sanada's words repeating over and over in his mind.

_I love you._

_I love you, Yukimura._

"Oh, Yukimura," said Sanada. He flashed Yukimura a breathtaking smile, spooning the dancer against his chest. "That was… amazing." Amazing didn't even begin to cover it, thought Sanada. He had never imagined anything could feel so good.

"Ah…" Yukimura was frozen in place.

_I love you, Yukimura._

He had known Sanada was a hopeless romantic. He had known that Sanada liked him perhaps a bit more than normal. But Yukimura had not suspected that Sanada would harbour such profound feelings for him. The implications of those words were sinking into Yukimura's mind.

He couldn't stay here. He couldn't do this. Yukimura felt like he was suffocating. Every little kiss Sanada gave to his neck made him stiffen more and more. He had to leave.

"Yukimura?" Sanada seemed to notice Yukimura's lack of response. "Is everything okay?"

Yukimura sat up, cringing at the throb in his lower back. He didn't look at Sanada. "I have to go," he said curtly.

"What?" Sanada looked alarmed. "Why? You can spend the night. Renji isn't due back until tomorrow evening."

Yukimura shook his head. He gathered up his clothes in a hurry, throwing them on the moment he found them. He was sticky and sweaty, but he was not willing to stay here for a second longer, not even for a shower.

"Yukimura!" Sanada grabbed Yukimura's wrist, stopping Yukimura before he could leave the room. "What's wrong?"

Yukimura didn't meet his eyes. "I'm leaving. Don't call me," he said, his voice gone icy cold.

Sanada's face flashed a hurt expression, all the joy from the night gone at that instant. He didn't understand. Had he done something wrong? "But- At least give me a reason," he said, desperate. "Did I do something wrong?"

"I just think it's about time we stop this… whatever this is between us," said Yukimura.

"'_This_'?" said Sanada. "We're dating, that's what's between us."

Yukimura grabbed his wrist back. "No, we're not. I admit we had our share of fun times, but I think it's about time we move on." _Before we become too attached to each other_, thought Yukimura.

Sanada didn't know how to feel about Yukimura's words. Confused, angry, betrayed, heartbroken. He felt like a dirty tissue, used and ready to be tossed away without a second glance.

"But I don't want to move on," said Sanada. "I want you Yukimura. I love y-"

"_SHUT UP_!" snarled Yukimura. His chest had gone tight and painful. "There is nothing between us, how many times will I have to say it before it gets through your thick skull?"

This time Sanada didn't stop him from leaving the room. Yukimura slammed the door shut behind him. He passed by the kitchen with the abandoned tea kettle and the enormous bouquet Sanada had given him. He didn't look back and left the apartment without a moment's hesitation.

Yukimura ran. He didn't take the bus or a taxi but chose to run on the nearly-empty streets until his lungs burned and he gasped for breath. It wasn't raining yet his eyes were wet, leaving a trail of drops down his face. He was cold, so freezing cold compared to how he had felt in Sanada's embrace. Yukimura realized he had left his jacket in Sanada's apartment, but he had no intention to run back and get it. All he could hear were the same words being repeated over and over in his head.

_I love you, Yukimura. _

**~o~o~o~**


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: The Imperial Palace Chapter 9**

**Setting: Strip Club AU.**

**Rating: T for Tennis. **

**Reason: I'm finally back from my internet-less vacation to Europe. Time to write.**

**Pairing: Hints of many pairings.**

**Warnings: Uncreative content, possible OOC-ness, new ship alert, ecstasy, everyone's an alpha pair shipper except Oshitari etc. **

**Disclaimer: Prince of tennis is not and will never be mine. **

**~o~o~o~**

* * *

><p>Out of all the jobs Shiraishi has had in his life, he thought this one was the best.<p>

While many might scorn and sneer at him whenever he revealed what his occupation was, Shiraishi liked his job far too much to even think about quitting. He had made many new friends working at the Imperial Palace, and he was able to spend his nights partying and dancing while getting paid for it.

Yes, being an erotic dancer definitely had its perks in Shiraishi's opinion.

However, there was one thing he would definitely change about it, Shiraishi thought as he saw the new outfit they were supposed to wear that night. Atobe had finally grown tired of the military uniforms and now had a whole different theme. Leaving a phase and starting another was Atobe's specialty. But regardless of what the theme was, Shiraishi simply did not see the point of putting on outfits when they were going to be stripped off soon anyways.

"Must we wear this?" asked Shiraishi, holding up something frilly. Really, he would have been fine just doing his job without clothes. Wasn't it the point of being an exotic dancer?

Fuji smiled. "Yes we do, you exhibitionist," he said. Apparently the frilly thing Shiraishi was holding was an apron. Fuji had already put on the whole attire. It was a French maid outfit, short and revealing as usual, complete with some silly hairpiece and thigh-high stockings. Shiraishi was pretty sure it would not look good on him. Leave it to Fuji to be able to work every ridiculous outfit without a problem. It almost seemed as if Fuji enjoyed dressing up.

Shiraishi sunk further into gloom when he uncovered his entire outfit. He was definitely not going to look good in that.

Fuji giggled. The brunette couldn't wait to try out his new dance routine in this. Tezuka was going to love it.

"Well, I decided. I'm not going to wear this," announced Shiraishi. "It blocks my ecstasy."

"Oh?"

Shiraishi put the clothes back in their box. The only thing he kept was the apron, since the club had a policy of not going out fully naked, which Shiraishi had to learn the hard way a few months back.

Fuji looked fairly amused. "You're just gonna wear the apron?" he asked.

"Yup," beamed Shiraishi. "Can you help me tie it in the back?"

Fuji did just that, knotting the apron around Shiraishi's naked back. "Good luck dealing with Atobe-san when he sees you," said Fuji. "If you're lucky, maybe Atobe-san will simply faint on the spot."

"But it is so much better like this!" exclaimed Shiraishi. "It shows off much more of my body and isn't uncomfortable to walk in. This is ecstasy!"

"Yes, yes," nodded Fuji. "By the way, do you know where Yukimura is? He's scheduled today."

They both looked around and realized that indeed Yukimura was not there. That was odd. Yukimura was never late. In fact, Yukimura was usually the first to arrive.

"I'm sure he'll be here soon," said Shiraishi. "Perhaps we are just a bit too impatient and eager to hear about how his date went." Fuji smiled at that. "Don't worry Fuji, you'll get to interrogate him plenty later."

They both looked at themselves in the mirror one final time before leaving their changing room. Shiraishi was dead serious about keeping only the apron on and Fuji had a feeling that Shiraishi would definitely be getting more customers tonight because of it… until Atobe found out at least.

People were already filing in even if the doors had only been open for a few minutes. Fuji sneaked a look through the curtain, seeing quite a crowd entering. Today was going to be really busy, he thought. He scanned the crowd quickly, recognizing a few regulars and mentally planning out which tables and groups he could stop by to make the most tips.

And then Fuji saw someone familiar come in. He turned to Shiraishi. "Your secret admirer is here tonight, Shiraishi," said the brunette.

Shiraishi pushed past Fuji to gaze at the crowd of clients. He frowned once he saw who Fuji meant. The boy was easy to spot, with those messy black curls and small figure… an undoubtedly too-small-to-be-in-a-strip-club figure in his opinion.

"Why does he keep coming?" asked Shiraishi as if Fuji knew the answer. "Just look at him! Is the bouncer blind or are we now letting underage kids in on purpose?"

"It's alright. Teenagers will always sneak into clubs early. It's normal human curiosity," said Fuji. "You should be flattered that he keeps coming in just to see you."

Shiraishi sighed. "Don't assume he comes to see me. He's never even spoken to me."

The young boy with the curly black hair did indeed come often. And every time he came, the boy would sit at a table, alone and watch Shiraishi. The boy didn't talk or ask him for a dance; he only stared at Shiraishi in silent. Shiraishi didn't really mind. A lot of people stared and Shiraishi would not have this job if he minded a few stares, but the boy really shouldn't be here. The boy looked like he was Shiraishi's younger sister's age and Shiraishi shuddered at the thought of his younger sister sneaking into strip clubs.

"Let's go, Shiraishi," said Fuji, dragging him forward. The music had become loud and that was their cue to start work. They stepped out of the shadows and made their way through the sea of customers. People looked their way immediately, smirking, staring, reaching into their pockets to see if they had any money. Shiraishi's admirer looked their way with large green eyes and a flush on his cheeks. Shiraishi looked his way with concern, making the boy quickly look down.

"Let it go," said Fuji.

"But-"

"No, we have to work now, not concern ourselves about some boy. If it bothers you that much, then you can ask Jackal-kun to re-check his ID."

"I guess…" Shiraishi tore his eyes off the boy and followed Fuji deeper into the crowd. The stage suddenly lit up, a sign for Fuji and other head dancers that they should be getting on stage and do their job as erotic dancers. The lone pole stood in the middle of the stage, waiting for Fuji to get up and do his thing.

"I'm going to get to work now," said Fuji. "Don't do anything stupid." With that warning said, Fuji ran to the stage. Guests were eagerly standing on the stage's edges, the crowd craning for a good view. Fuji was going to make a fortune tonight. The cheers were loud when the song began, officially starting the show.

Shiraishi could easily go find a large table of people to entertain or dance a bit on the dance floor for a few tips here and there. Shiraishi turned his head back in the direction of the curly-haired boy, finding that the boy was once against looking at him, turning away just as quickly as last time. He turned back to the stage, seeing that Fuji was giving him a warning look as he grinded the pole between his legs.

Shiraishi swallowed thickly. No, he couldn't leave this alone, Fuji be damned.

He made his way through the crowd and soon stood next to the seated curly-haired boy. The boy pretended not to notice him at first, only looking up after a long minute. Large green eyes stared at Shiraishi, confused and showing a hint of awe, as if the boy couldn't believe that Shiraishi was standing right there.

"Hello," said Shiraishi, smiling pleasantly. "May I sit beside you?"

The boy's eyes widened. He looked around himself comically, as if looking behind him to make sure Shiraishi was really talking to him and not someone else. Then, he nodded. Sitting down, Shiraishi was able to look at the boy from a close distance. He looked even younger than Shiraishi had first thought… and he was rather cute. Normally Shiraishi would suggest getting drinks, but this boy was no regular customer.

"My name is Shiraishi," said the dancer. He was rapidly thinking about how to proceed and figured he would engage in polite introductions in the meantime. "It's nice to meet you. May I ask your name?"

"K-Kirihara Akaya," stuttered the boy.

"Okay then, Kirihara-san." Shiraishi decided that perhaps it would be best to get to the point quickly. "May I ask you a question?"

"Y-Yes?"

"How old are you, Kirihara-san?"

Kirihara froze, the frightened look of a deer in caught in headlights. "I'm twenty," he said. His voice didn't sound convincing, like he was asking a question instead of stating something. "I-I can show you my ID if you want."

"I'm not interested in the date listed on your fake ID, Kirihara-san," said Shiraishi. He frowned a bit, his voice changing to a scolding one. He felt like he was scolding his younger sister for something she had done wrong. "I want the truth. I won't get mad and I won't call security on you. I'll simply ask that you leave if my suspicions are correct."

Kirihara looked down at his hands. After a pause, he whispered, "Seventeen."

Seventeen! Kirihara was even younger than Shiraishi had assumed, not even a legal adult yet, and much too young to be in a club.

"B-But I don't drink when I come here!" said Kirihara defensively. "I just sit and watch. Aren't I allowed to stay for that?"

Shiraishi sighed. "Kirihara-chan, I'm afraid not. Our club could get in trouble."

Kirihara's eyebrow twitched at the words _Kirihara-chan_.

"I'll ask you to go now, but if you refuse, then you leave me no choice but to call security. Don't make this difficult for yourself," said Shiraishi in a reasonable voice. Kirihara didn't know how a stripper wearing nothing more than some frilly apron could possibly manage to sound like a scolding mother, but Shiraishi managed it.

"But-"

"No buts." Shiraishi stood up, grabbing Kirihara's arm as well, pulling the boy to his feet. "I'm escorting you outside, Kirihara-chan."

On the way out, Kirihara couldn't help but feel burning humiliation. Shiraishi was pulling him forward by the arm like he was a child, scolded for a misdeed. Not even the fact that his beloved Shiraishi was actually holding his arm could make this situation better. It felt like everyone was looking his way and making fun of him. Kirihara yanked his arm back when the exit came into view.

"I can walk myself!" said Kirihara, frowning in an adorably pouted way. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and worked on leaving this place before he could be embarrassed further.

"Wait!" Shiraishi grabbed him again. "Are you walking home alone?"

"Yeah, so what?"

Shiraishi looked absolutely horrified. "It's dark outside! A boy your age shouldn't be walking around at this time!"

"It's only 8 o'clock!" cried out Kirihara.

"It's no use," sighed Shiraishi dramatically. "I can't let a cute boy like you go off by alone this late. The worry will block my ecstasy."

"Your _what_-"

"It's decided!" announced the dancer. "I'll walk you home. You don't live far, I hope?"

Kirihara's mouth popped open. This guy was crazy. Kirihara didn't know why he used to have a genuine crush on this lunatic. "I can go by myself!" he shouted. "I don't need your help. It's only two blocks down."

"Oh, good, it's not a long walk then." Shiraishi put his hand on the door. "Come along, then. I'm sure your mother is worried sick."

"Yeah, because going home with a stranger is_ so_ safe," said Kirihara.

"What's going on here?" came Jackal's voice. The bodyguard stepped forward, looking between Kirihara and Shiraishi with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, Jackal-kun, I'm just going to escort this boy home. I'll be back soon, so don't worry," said Shiraishi, as if he hadn't heard a word of Kirihara's protests.

Jackal frowned. "You're going out… in that attire?"

Shiraishi didn't see the problem. Kirihara looked mortified.

"I'll get you a jacket," said Jackal with a sigh, turning back. The last thing they needed was for Shiraishi to be arrested for indecent public exposure. Shiraishi just shrugged.

Kirihara shook his head, groaning inwardly. This was a nightmare. Jackal soon returned with a long beige jacket and handed it to Shiraishi. The stripper put it on impatiently, not wanting to be gone from his work for too long. Kirihara looked at Shiraishi up and down.

"You look like a flasher," stated Kirihara. Jackal snorted, silently agreeing.

"Thank you. Shall we get going, Kirihara-chan?" asked Shiraishi.

Kirihara tried to get out of it, he really did, but Shiraishi was not backing down and this was getting nowhere. He decided to let Shiraishi walk with him for a bit out in the cool streets. Perhaps he could ditch Shiraishi on the way, or maybe the stripper would leave once he caught a glimpse of Kirihara's home. The walk down the two blocks was short and only took a few minutes.

"I can see my house from here," said Kirihara. He pointed to an ordinary-looking house along the street corner. Shiraishi said nothing and just continued walking. They were getting closer… dangerously close to Kirihara's home. Kirihara began to panic once they stood a few steps away from his front porch. "You can leave now! Don't you have a job to do?"

"I want to deliver you safely and properly to your parents," explained Shiraishi.

And then, Kirihara had to watch in horror as Shiraishi rang the doorbell. Kirihara feverishly prayed that his mother wasn't home even if her car was in the driveway. His wish went unheard as the door opened a few seconds later, revealing a stout middle-aged woman.

"Good evening, ma'am," said Shiraishi, beaming radiantly. Kirihara's mother shot him a suspicious look, her eyes stopping at the long beige jacket and hints of lace that were escaping from the unbuttoned top of said jacket.

"What is it?" she asked cautiously. She then spotted Kirihara hiding along the side of the porch. "Akaya, there you are! Where have you been?"

"I've come to deliver him safely back home." Shiraishi sounded far too cheerful about this.

"I was just out with some friends, mom," said Kirihara.

"He was at the Imperial Palace," clarified Shiraishi. Kirihara blanched in horror.

"The Imperial… Palace?" said Kirihara's mother, sounding very confused.

"The strip club a few blocks down from here," said Shiraishi, nodding.

He was going to kill him, thought Kirihara. He was going to murder Shiraishi, before his mom killed him first. The words strip club resounded in his ears multiple times. His mother's wide eyes met his, silently telling him that he was in a shitload of trouble.

"Akaya, get inside. Now." She pointed to the house, her lips tight.

"But _mom-"_

"_Now."_

Angry tears rose to Kirihara's eyes. He glared at Shiraishi, putting all of his bitterness and betrayal into that look. "I hate you!" he cried out. He couldn't believe he had actually had a crush on this prick! Shiraishi was nothing but a big fat meanie.

"Oh, Kirihara-chan, it's for your own good," said Shiraishi, giving the younger boy a fond look and petting the curly black locks on Kirihara's head, enjoying the feel of them on his fingers. "You'll thank me someday."

Kirihara responded by giving him the finger and running inside his house after his mother, slamming the door behind him.

Shiraishi whistled happily on the way back to his work building, feeling like he had just accomplished a great deed.

* * *

><p><strong>~o~o~o~<strong>

* * *

><p>"This <em>fucking<em> sucks," said Mukahi. He crossed his arms, his grouchy face and crude language ruining the cute sight of the frilly maid outfit.

Oshitari sighed. So much for having a quiet night. He was going to have to endure Mukahi's complaints again. It was really not cute.

"I know, Gakuto," said Oshitari, nodding at his empty glass. He wanted another drink but his limit of five drinks had already been reached. Tezuka once again refused to give Oshitari a sixth glass. "You know, you would be a lot more adorable if you shut your mouth a bit."

"I don't give a flying fuck," Mukahi spat out. "This was my night off. Why do I have to come in just because Yukimura didn't show? It's really not fair. And now that idiot Shiraishi left to hell-knows-where with an underage kid. This is so fan-_fucking_-tastic."

A customer made his way between Oshitari's seat and Mukahi. "Hey darling, how about a dance?" said the man, waving bills in the air.

Mukahi shot him a dirty look. "Can't you fucking see I'm busy? Fuck off!" The man ran off without much more provocation. Mukahi glared after him but instead saw someone else arriving at the scene. It was someone Mukahi really didn't want to see at the moment.

"Oh shit, Atobe's here," said Mukahi. Now he was going to have to work for real. Why did Atobe have to pick today of all days to be here? The world was conspiring against him. Now Atobe will be on his back for the whole damn shift. "Quick Yuushi, pay me to do something."

"Why me?" said Oshitari. "You just chased off a perfectly good customer. Go run after him instead."

"Oh for fuck's sake." Mukahi rolled his eyes and turned Oshitari's barstool around. Before Oshitari could protest, Mukahi had already straddled the older man and worked on moving as sensually and provocatively as possible. Oshitari didn't know how Mukahi managed to give such good lap dances on someone on a high chair, but he once learnt to never question Mukahi's flexibility.

Atobe stopped in front of the scene and rose an eyebrow. "You couldn't get on a regular chair or the dance floor before you started doing that?" asked the club owner.

Mukahi somehow manoeuvred himself upside down, Oshitari's head between his legs. The outfit made it harder than necessary. "Don't worry, Yuushi's paying me extra," said Mukahi. His hand was clenched around several money bills.

"Hey, I don't recall saying I would pay you," said Oshitari. "Put those back in my pocket."

Atobe took his seat next to them. "Regardless, I had a very hectic week and would like to sit down without having to see you dry humping Oshitari's face, Mukahi," he said. "There are more than enough clients here today. Do go elsewhere."

Huffing, Mukahi flipped himself off of Oshitari, eager to leave Atobe's presence. He quickly ran off to find some other poor soul to complain to. Atobe sighed and rubbed his face with his hand exasperatingly, barely giving a glance at the glass of wine Tezuka laid out in front of him.

"You do appear quite exhausted," said Oshitari. He turned back to his glass, hoping some drink had magically appeared while he had been occupied with Mukahi. It was still empty.

"Oh, I am," said Atobe. "I thought I would finally get a day of relaxation today, until my employee decided not to show." He fingered the rim of his glass until he decided that a drink was exactly what he needed. He drained it quickly and Tezuka refilled it in a flash.

"Ah, so I've heard. How strange of Yukimura not to show up for his shift," said Oshitari.

"Indeed," hissed Atobe. That idiot Yukimura was going to pay for this no-show. He would make sure Yukimura was going to get the ugliest costume in the whole club and would have to entertain tables filled with middle-aged men for a week! And why did his glass keep on becoming so empty so fast? At least Tezuka was swift in refilling it.

"It's not like him," said Oshitari. Yukimura was very punctual and Oshitari couldn't remember a single time that Yukimura had called in sick. "Has someone tried contacting him?"

"I left a few threatening voicemails," said Atobe. "From what I know, Fuji has tried to contact him as well, but to no avail. Really, this is the last thing I need after this hard week I've had."

A smile tugged at Oshitari's lips. "Is this why you've been absent for days now?"

"I had business to take care of."

"And does this business involve that tennis player, Echizen Ryoma?"

Atobe froze. Oshitari's smile grew wider.

"So you are already aware," said Atobe. Yes, he definitely needed more wine now. Perhaps something even stronger. He was already feeling a little light-headed, but he was past the point of caring.

"Keigo, your picture has been on all the gossip magazines for the last week. Honestly, what were you thinking when you brought the tennis world champion up in your office? What did you think would happen?" said Oshitari, looking far too amused. "Although I admit the rumours going around are far too amusing and over-the-top."

Atobe frowned. "The brat provoked me." he said. "He was the one who started flirting with me."

Now it was Oshitari turn to be shocked. "Wait, did you actually sleep with him?" he asked. He knew the rumours and pictures all showed Atobe and Echizen going up to Atobe's office together, but Oshitari hadn't believed that anything had actually happened between them. Rumours were normally always false.

Atobe pursed his lips. "Technically, I did not _sleep_ with him."

"Oh, Keigo, you didn't…" Oshitari shook his head. "Imagine people find out the rumours were real? I thought you had more self control than that."

"To be fair, I've had sex with many people," said Atobe. "The only reason everyone is buzzing about this one is because he happens to be famous. You wouldn't have even batted an eyelash if I told you I had screwed my bartender."

Tezuka whipped his head around in a flash from behind the counter.

"Yes, but sleeping with Tezuka would have been a far better choice," sighed Oshitari. "Then you wouldn't be in this scandal." In the distance, Fuji glared back at them, as if he had somehow heard their comments about Tezuka. "No offense, Tezuka," he added so that Fuji wouldn't hold a grudge over his head for his comment.

Atobe rolled his shoulders back and exhaled harshly. It was too late now. The whole world already thought the heir of the great Atobe corporations was now sleeping with the tennis world champion. He couldn't even go home anymore without being mobbed by photographers and journalists looking for a juicy story they could sell. His every step was being closely monitored and Atobe couldn't stand it. He was paranoid, looking around him all the time as if everyone surrounding him was a secret spy.

The club was filling up to the brim. The dance floor was completely crowded and the few tables left were filled up. But as good as the business was, Atobe was not in the mood to be in a loud crowd. Unfortunately, he was the boss and couldn't just leave. He hadn't been here all week, so the least he could do was stay for a night. Maybe he could drink some of his troubles away. Drink. Yes, more drinks sounded good.

He looked up at Tezuka, about to voice an order for something strong. Tezuka was pouring a drink and handed it to another customer at the far left side of the bar. Atobe narrowed his eyes. That customer… he looked familiar.

"Hey, do I know that guy?" Atobe asked Oshitari, pointing at the tall raven-haired man who had just ordered a drink.

Oshitari took a short look and smiled. "That's Yukimura's guy, I believe," he said. "You've met him before. He comes frequently. Handsome, isn't he?"

Oh, that's right. Atobe remembered once reprimanding the man for coming in the club early. His brow crinkled in deep thought, trying to remember the raven-haired man's name. The buzz in his head made it hard to think. The name Sanada popped into his mind.

"Oi, Sanada!" shouted Atobe over the music. "Sanada!"

It took a few tries for Sanada to hear and turn his head around. Clearly Sanada remembered Atobe from before because he met his eyes with a frown. Oshitari smiled flirtatiously back at Sanada and waved at him.

"Invite him for a drink," Oshitari whispered to Atobe. "He's just my type."

Atobe made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "You just said he was taken."

"All the good men are taken. It doesn't make him any less handsome."

"No, it just makes you seem desperate," replied Atobe. He hauled himself out of his barstool, heading towards Sanada. The seat he abandoned was immediately taken by a client. The floor shifted dizzily in Atobe's vision with every step he took.

Oshitari remained seated, an amused smirk on his lips. While any sane friend would have stopped an obviously drunk buddy from getting up and potentially starting a fight, Oshitari took far more delight in watching Atobe make a fool of himself.

"I have to talk to you," Atobe prodded Sanada's shoulder until the man turned around. Even when drunk, Atobe still managed to sound haughty. "You, you tell that bastard Yukimura that if he ever decides to not show up again, he'll be looking for a new job. Understand?" said Atobe. He jabbed at Sanada's shoulder once more just for the heck of it, like this was all somehow his fault.

Sanada appeared to be internally debating on whether or not he should leave. The mention of Yukimura made a sad expression appear on his face.

"I haven't been able to contact Yukimura since yesterday," said Sanada.

"Well obviously neither have I!" said Atobe. "Why else would I be asking you where he's gone?"

"I don't know where he's gone," said Sanada. "That's why I came here today. I was hoping he'd be here so we can talk. He hasn't been returning any of my phone calls so I'm getting worried."

"How tragic," said Atobe without a trace of sympathy in his tone. He looked back at Oshitari and found him still staring at Sanada with that pervy grin. That idiot. "Oh, and be wary of that man over there with the dark blue hair and glasses." Atobe pointed at Oshitari, who waved back at them. "He's a perverted jerk and I'm pretty sure he wants your ass."

Sanada really couldn't take a joke – or maybe he was not in the mood for it – because he simply stood up and left. Poor guy, thought Atobe. Apparently being ignored by Yukimura was not putting Sanada in a very good mood.

"Fine, be that way then," grumbled Atobe. He went back to Oshitari's side only to remember that his seat had been taken. Part of him wanted to shove the guy off his chair, but the more reasonable side of his brain reminded him that punching paying customers was not the way to go.

"What did you tell him?" asked Oshitari. "He certainly left in a hurry."

"Nothing. The idiot doesn't know where Yukimura is anymore than we do."

"What a shame."

They were interrupted by the bright flash of a camera in their direction. Atobe blinked rapidly to get the blur out of his vision. He soon recovered enough to see a man wielding a large camera in his direction. Another man was by his side, casting occasional glances his way and writing things down.

Atobe gritted his teeth. He was at his patience's limit with the damn paparazzi. Did they ever leave him alone?

"Keigo, don't start a brawl in your own club," warned a more level-headed Oshitari. "It will only make it worse. Get security to kick them out."

Right. Atobe nodded. He shouldn't take this out on the annoying photographers. It was not their fault. The only reason they were here in the first place was because of that cocky brat, Echizen Ryoma.

Yes, everything was Echizen Ryoma's fault. He pulled out his phone in a flash.

"Who are you calling?" asked Oshitari.

"The tennis prince himself," replied Atobe. He hit the call button before Oshitari could convince him that this was a really bad idea. Drunken calls to one night stands were definitely not a good thing to do.

Atobe let the phone ring, having a hard time hearing the rings over the loud beats of music.

"Hello?" answered Echizen's voice.

"Hello to you too, you no-good ingrate," said Atobe. "I hope you are very happy about this."

There was a pause. "Is that you, Monkey King?"

"Don't change the subject." Or maybe it was on subject? Atobe wasn't too sure. "Truly, you sir deserve the gold medal for putting me in the biggest, most catastrophically annoying dilemma I have ever known. Not only is this entirely your fault, but you are leaving me to suffer the consequences without having a single clue of the weight you have so ungraciously burdened me with, you selfish dunghead. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Another pause. "Are you drunk, Monkey King?" asked Echizen with amusement. "Or do you have a habit of starting a monologue whenever you are pissed off?"

"A bit of both, I believe," said Atobe. "Now, what will you do to rectify the situation?"

There was a chuckle from Echizen's line. "Is that an invitation to meet again? I can make arrangements if you would like. I have experience in dealing with stalking photographers and I can easily give us some real privacy this time. Then I can, ah, make it up to you."

Atobe opened his mouth to reply but no words came out. He found himself actually considering Echizen's proposal. Flashes of images appeared in his head too, of them alone in his office, Echizen bended over his desk and moaning deliciously.

"What type of arrangements?" asked Atobe. He could practically hear Echizen's cocky smile come in place.

"You don't need to do anything. Just be ready to go this Saturday at five. I'll pick you up at your place."

"To go where?"

Echizen chuckled again. "It's a surprise."

Atobe was about to demand a proper answer when he heard the call end with a click. The feeling of infuriation took over him so that he nearly snapped his cellphone in half. He practically shoved Oshitari out of his seat, so impatient that he even began snapping at Tezuka about not having his drink ready in five seconds.

"How did it go?" asked Oshitari sarcastically. It was quite obvious that Atobe was in an even worse mood after his talk with Echizen.

"I have a date," hissed Atobe. He drained his glass, slamming it down on the counter harder than necessary.

"Really?" Oshitari sounded surprised and then he threw his head back to laugh. Atobe's face looked so uncharacteristically grumpy that he couldn't help the bouts of laughter. "How did that happen?"

"I have no idea," said Atobe, shaking his head. This was a bad idea. Atobe felt like calling back and demanding that they not have a date, but he was afraid he would somehow get off the phone with weekend plans with the tennis player.

He sighed loudly. This was a horrible end to a horrible week. And by the looks of it, next week would not be any different. Atobe stood there grumbling as Oshitari moaned complaints about not being allowed a sixth drink. Then there were more camera flashes in his direction. Even the fuzzy feeling from the alcohol didn't make this situation any better. Atobe laid his head down on the counter, looking out at the dance floor.

And then, Atobe saw him.

Right in the middle of the dance floor was Shiraishi, but the dancer was not wearing the full-body maid outfit Atobe had gone through much trouble to get. Atobe's vision turned red.

"Hold my glass," said Atobe, pushing his empty glass into Oshitari's grasp. He then stomped forward and got ready to give Shiraishi an earful about respecting the dress code.

* * *

><p><strong>~o~o~o~<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: The Imperial Palace Chapter 10**

**Setting: Strip Club AU.**

**Rating: M~**

**Reason: I'm stressing over university and I decided to write this in order to escape the mountain of never-ending homework.**

**Pairing: Platinum Pair.**

**Warnings: Uncreative content, possible OOC-ness, Yagyuu is a dad, Niou is a terrible influence, little children are annoying brats, etc.**

**Disclaimer: Prince of tennis is not mine.**

**~o~o~o~**

* * *

><p>Over the course of several weeks, Niou often found himself returning to Yagyuu's apartment.<p>

Yagyuu didn't mind. Or rather, Yagyuu was too gentlemanly to shoo him out. However, that didn't stop Yagyuu from pursing his lips at Niou and giving him disapproving stares whenever Niou fell asleep on the couch or left an empty soda can on the table. For Niou, coming to Yagyuu's place was advantagous as it meant wasting less money on food and not having to worry about washing the dishes afterwards.

All in all, Niou was in a comfortable situation... as long as Yagyuu didn't turn on the nagging parent voice.

"I am convinced that I would have a heart attack if I ever see the inside of your apartment, Niou-kun," said Yagyuu as he casually folded his laundry in neat piles. He looked disdainfully at the chocolate wrappers Niou was leaving on his couch.

Niou nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you probably would. My apartment is not a pretty sight."

"I can only imagine," whispered Yagyuu. "But do tell me why you are always here?"

Niou shrugged. "I have nothing better to do," he said. He realized Yagyuu was folding some of his clothes as well. Good. It meant less laundry for him later.

"That is not good, Niou-kun," said Yagyuu in a scolding tone. "You should get a job instead of idly wasting your time doing nothing. Then you could start saving up for your future instead of relying on me or your parents-"

"Yes, mother," said Niou with a roll of his eyes.

Yagyuu's apartment was too neat, too organized. Yagyuu had a large TV that he never watched and a laptop that he never used except for work purposes. The only thing Yagyuu seemed to do for fun was take those large books off the many bookshelves and read their dull contents. Man, if Niou was a recently separated man living in his own downtown apartment, he was pretty sure he would be having parties every night. And he would have a pinball machine.

Maybe he could convince Yagyuu to get a pinball machine…

"So what are your plans today, Niou-kun?" asked Yagyuu. He was done the laundry, all sorted into neat color-coded piles. The gentleman sat down next to Niou, shoving his feet off the couch.

"I'll be vegging," replied Niou. Yagyuu gave him a confused look. "Vegging, as in sitting around doing nothing like a vegetable."

"I see," said Yagyuu. He wasn't sure if that was an actual word or not, but he said nothing about it. "I also don't have plans for anything productive today."

That set off a lightbulb over Niou's head. The silver-haired young man gave Yagyuu a sly smirk. All of Yagyuu's red alarms went off in an instant.

"I know of a great way in which we can be unproductive together," purred Niou. He pulled himself up to straddle Yagyuu, his hands going up to play with Yagyuu's perfectly combed brown hair.

Yagyuu's mouth quirked. "Again?" he asked. "You are always so eager for it. We just did it yesterday."

"Yesterday was so long ago," whined Niou, licking his lips right before attacking Yagyuu's neck with bites. "I'm young. I need sex."

"Are you implying that I'm old, Niou-kun?"

"Nope. Your sex drive just needs a little boost. Your wife did no good to it," said Niou. "How many times did you used to have sex with her anyways, like once a month?"

Yagyuu paused before slowly admitting, "Once every six months, if I was lucky."

Niou pulled back and regarded Yagyuu with pity. "You poor, poor man," said Niou. "I don't know how on earth you survived that."

Yagyuu could only chuckle as Niou pressed in and invaded his mouth. Niou's kisses were always so passionate, so full of life, energy and enthusiasm that Yagyuu was always left breathless by the time they pulled apart. Niou then grinded his hips down and Yagyuu groaned, feeling Niou's already hard arousal.

"Bed," murmured Yagyuu.

"Aw, and here I thought we were finally giving the couch a go," said Niou. He patted the couch invitingly. Yagyuu narrowed his eyes.

"Bed or you don't get any. Your choice," said the gentleman.

Niou rolled his eyes and stood up. "Fine. Way to ruin all my fun, _Yeah_gyuu."

Yagyuu shook his head at Niou's childishness. He didn't see what was so adventurous or comfortable about the couch. He was pretty sure Niou had just been too lazy to want to move to another room. And also because it was now Niou's turn to make the bed and wash the sheets once they were done. Afterall, Yagyuu couldn't have Niou just loitering around his house all the time without making him do a bit of chores. He had even been thinking about making Niou wash some dishes too. Niou had to start pulling his own weight in this house.

Niou jumped on the bed the moment they entered the bedroom. Yagyuu smiled and joined him. He crawled up until Niou was under him and then they were kissing again. He pressed Niou back against the mattress, sucking on his bottom lip while his hands wandered down the silver-haired man's body, undoing buttons and brushing the exposed bits of skin. Niou made soft noises and Yagyuu swallowed them and suddenly he was very eager for this as well.

And then the doorbell rang.

They stopped, both of them looking in the direction of the door. Yagyuu raised an eyebrow and wondered out loud, "Who could that be?" He wasn't expecting anyone today. He was tempted to ignore whoever was at the door and pretend he wasn't home when the bell rang again, more insistent this time.

Sighing, Yagyuu rolled off of Niou. "I'll be right back," he said. Niou nodded and watched Yagyuu leave the room.

Niou heard the sound of Yagyuu clicking open the lock to the front door. Niou listened attentively, lying back with his hands behind his head. He was surprised when instead of Yagyuu greeting his guest, all he heard was a harsh tone.

"What are you doing here?" Niou heard Yagyuu say. Yagyuu sounded almost angry.

A woman's voice answered him. "I have an emergency at work. You're going to have to take him for the afternoon."

"Has it occurred to you that I might have plans?" said Yagyuu.

"You are a father with responsibilities. Your plans can wait," replied the woman. "I take care of him all week. The least you can do is be grateful and take him for an afternoon."

Ah, _fuck_, the kid and the wife were here, thought Niou. And it was totally not awkward that he was hiding in the bedroom. Niou just hoped Yagyuu wouldn't invite them in for tea and ask him to join the table. But luckily, from the sound of things, Yagyuu and his wife were definitely not on good terms. Niou didn't dare look outside the room to peak, just in case he would get spotted.

He heard Yagyuu sigh. "Fine," said Yagyuu. "Hiro-chan, come in. You'll be staying with dad for today."

"I'll be back later tonight," said the wife. And then the door shut and there was silence once more. Niou wondered vaguely what on earth a 3 year old boy would be able to do in such a neat and not-kid-friendly apartment. Niou couldn't recall seeing any kid toys anywhere.

He heard Yagyuu mutter something and then there was the sound of the television being turned on. Funny, Niou never thought Yagyuu would be the type to let his son watch cartoons. Niou had simply assumed those two read dictionaries together in their spare time. Either way, all this hopefully meant the kid would be distracted enough so that he and Yagyuu could finish their_ business_ together.

Yagyuu crept back in the bedroom soon after, carefully locking the door behind him.

"Hiro-chan's watching television," said Yagyuu. "He'll be distracted for a while."

"Nice of you to let him watch TV," said Niou. "You told me it would rot my brain the last time I was watching my show."

"You were watching reality shows. My son watches the discovery channel. There is a difference." He hastily joined Niou on the bed, running his hands back up that thin chest. "We have a bit of time now if we hurry."

Niou smirked. "Good, because I wasn't ready to let you go just yet." He gripped Yagyuu's firm behind as they began kissing heatedly again. Their movements were hectic, both of them struggling to tear their clothes off as fast as possible. Yagyuu got an elbow to the face on the way but soon they were rutting against each others' naked bodies in earnest.

"We have to be silent," whispered Yagyuu. Niou merely nodded and flipped them over so that Yagyuu lay on his back.

Niou then began kissing his way down Yagyuu's body, pausing to kiss at hard nipples and nipping at jutted hipbones. He roamed one hand down to Yagyuu's behind, brushing a finger up against the gentleman's entrance. Yagyuu stiffened. "Niou-kun…"

Niou looked up at Yagyuu's unsure face. "I know, Yagyuu. I won't do it today," promised Niou. "But when will you let me take you?" Yagyuu shivered at the words, at Niou's husky tone. "I want you so bad, _Yagyuu_."

Yagyuu didn't have time to answer as Niou dipped his head down a second later and swallowed his length whole. Yagyuu bit the back of his hand in an effort to keep his moans locked in his throat. The suction… the _heat_, it was all so good. Niou's finger didn't withdraw, teasing Yagyuu's hole with pressing touches but never fully slipping inside.

Niou paused for a second. "Here, I'll show you that it's not so bad, okay?"

Yagyuu made an impatient wanton noise and Niou chuckled.

"Yeah, I'm on it," Niou said and lowered his mouth over Yagyuu's arousal once more. This time, Niou's finger moved in, slow and burning, and Yagyuu's mouth opened in a silent moan. Niou worked on distracting the gentleman with his mouth as his finger dug in deeper and searched. Yagyuu was well on his way to losing it, feeling his climax coming closer… and closer…

"Dad!"

Yagyuu jerked, gasping at the sound of his son calling him from the living room. He quickly looked at the door, assuring himself that it was still locked tight.

"W-What is it?" Yagyuu called back in a shaky voice. He looked down at Niou's head between his legs and nearly moaned out loud. "I'm a bit busy right now, Hiro-chan."

"But dad, I have to _pee."_

Yagyuu looked at the door then back at Niou. The silver-haired young man swiped his tongue along Yagyuu's head. Yagyuu groaned.

"Okay, hold on a second, Hiro-chan," said Yagyuu. He pulled Niou off of him and rolled out of bed. He grabbed his clothes in a hurry and thought that leaving that bed was now officially one of the hardest things he had ever done in his entire life.

He looked back at Niou apologetically. "Sorry, this will only take a second."

Niou rolled his eyes and sprawled himself out on the bed. "Yeah. And I'll be here." He said to the now empty room.

This was exactly why Niou didn't understand people's needs to have kids. The brats were damn good cockblockers.

Niou decided that he was probably not going to get much action at this rate so he got off the bed and fished around for his pants. If he wasn't going to have sex, then at least he was going to do something half as enjoyable: eat all the junk food Yagyuu had in his fridge.

He exited the room and made his way to the fridge. Like he saw before, the majority of the things inside were healthy things like eggs, yogurt, fruits and vegetables. But if Niou looked way in the back, he could see his hidden stash of coke bottles. His next stop was the pantry, where a bag of chips was hidden behind a box of whole grain cereal. Niou snatched it the moment he saw it. He was sooning going to have to convince Yagyuu to get him more unhealthy snacks.

The door to the bathroom opened then and Yagyuu stepped out, flanked by a tiny version of the gentleman himself. Yagyuu's son stopped in his tracks, staring with wide brown eyes at Niou. The boy really did look like a smaller, way younger version of Yagyuu, minus the glasses.

Yagyuu cleared his throat. "Hiro-chan, this is our guest, Niou-kun," said Yagyuu to his son.

"Hey, nice to meet'cha, Mini Yagyuu," said Niou.

The kid kept on staring at him without saying a word until Yagyuu gave him a sharp look. It was only then that he squeaked out a small "Hi" before going to hide behind his dad.

Yagyuu hushed his son back to the living room area, setting him down on the couch. The television screen showed some cheetahs running after a poor antelope while some boring man's voice talked over it, explaining something about cheetah wildlife. That poor kid was going to grow up on shows like this. Niou felt almost bad for the boy.

"Niou-kun, must you walk around the room without a shirt on?" Yagyuu was back at his side and glowering.

"Must you walk around the house with a hard-on in your pants?" Niou retorted, pointing down at Yagyuu's crotch area. He smirked and popped his soda bottle open while Yagyuu was busy looking flustered.

"Fine. I'm going to my room and change into something more… appropriate," said Yagyuu. "Watch Hiro-chan for a few minutes, and please don't eat on the couch." Yagyuu stepped towards his room and looked back at Niou as if worried.

Niou snorted. "Relax, I'm not going to do any permanent damage to your son in only a few minutes. I'll make sure you can go jack off in peace."

Yagyuu gave him that look for an additional few seconds and then disappeared in his bedroom. Niou turned around and saw that the kid was staring at him again from over the top of the couch.

While totally ignoring Yagyuu's eating on the couch comment, Niou went to do exactly that, bringing his coke and chips with him as he sat down next to Yagyuu's son. The boy said nothing, sneaking occasional glances at Niou as if he were curious.

"Do you always watch this crap?" asked Niou, pointing at the TV.

The young boy nodded meekly. "Dad said not to eat on the couch."

"Well, your dad is a stick in the mud," replied Niou.

"I didn't see mud on daddy."

"Nevermind. Forget the mud," said Niou as the boy looked confusedly at him. Geez, he had forgotten how literal kids were about everything people said.

He extended his chip bag over to the boy. Hiro-chan hesitated for an instant before taking one and carefully eating it so that there were no crumbs or other pieces of evidence that would give away the fact that he ate on the couch. Then, Niou picked up the remote. "Mind if I change the channel?"

Hiro-chan shook his head. Niou thought for a second that the boy was quite adorable for being a cockblocking little shit. He quickly changed the channel to the sports channel.

"What's that?" asked Hiro-chan, pointing at the TV.

"Tennis," said Niou. "What, you never watched tennis before?" The boy shook his head no, his eyes mesmerized by the sight of players rallying back and forth on the large grass field. One of the players shot the ball sharply to the left and got the points, winning a set.

"Who's that?" Hiro-chan asked, pointing at the white-capped player who had just won the set.

"Echizen Ryoma. He's probably gonna win," said Niou, putting his feet up on the coffee table. "He always wins. He's won like everything in the last four years."

"Why?"

"'Cause he's a damn good player."

"Oh," said Hiro-chan. "How do you win?"

And so Niou began a lengthy talk about the rules of tennis and how it was about hitting a small green ball with racket in an attempt to make the opponent unable to get it. Then Hiro-chan asked about the scoring system, the lines on the court, the equipment, and rulebreaking until Niou was beginning to wonder when Yagyuu was going to come back out of his room. Yagyuu's son was like some insatiable sponge who fed off of new information, always asking "Why?" whenever Niou said something.

"…then there's the Wimbledon, and the U.S open," said Niou. Hiro-chan opened his mouth again but Niou shook his head. "No more questions, I'm tired. Go ask your dad when he comes back. Now eat your chips."

Yagyuu finally returned right when Niou was in the midst of shoving the chip bag in Hiro-chan's hands.

"Hiro-chan, that's not healthy to eat. And I see you are still half-naked, Niou-kun," said Yagyuu.

"I see it took you a good ten minutes to finish," grinned Niou. "What, did your hand get tired?"

Yagyuu cleared his throat loudly to hide his flush just as his son bounced off the couch and ran excitedly to tell his father of his newest discovery.

"Dad, can we go play tennis?" asked Hiro-chan, his eyes sparkling excitedly.

"Tennis?" Yagyuu looked confused until he looked up at the television just as Echizen Ryoma finished the match, giving the tennis player yet another victory and grand slam title under his belt. "But Hiro-chan, we don't have any rackets or a tennis court nearby."

The small boy's face fell in disappointment. It was the most heart-breaking thing Niou had ever seen.

"I have rackets," said Niou. "I can bring them next time I come over, no problem." The words were out before Niou had even thought them over, but at least they had the desired effect. Hiro-chan's eyes were as bright as a puppy's.

"Really?" said Hiro-chan. "Can we, dad?"

Yagyuu frowned, looking at Niou uncertainly. "Are you sure that's…?"

Niou shrugged. "It doesn't bother me. My rackets are just collecting dust at my house anyways," he said. Yagyuu still didn't look convinced. "Oh come on, sports are healthy. He won't break a leg from running around with a racket."

Yagyuu sighed. "I suppose you're right. We'll arrange a date some other time," he said. Hiro-chan looked completely ecstatic about the news that he would soon get to play tennis. "But for now, I noticed it's nap time for you, Hiro-chan."

"I don't want to sleep," said Hiro-chan with a pout. "I'm not tired."

"Maybe not, but you still have to," said Yagyuu. "You can sleep on my bed. It's really big, you know. A grown-up bed."

That's all it took to have Hiro-chan scampering off to Yagyuu's bedroom. The kid got excited way too easily in Niou's opinion. Tennis and big beds were nothing to be overwhelmed about.

Yagyuu was about to follow his son to his bedroom when he stopped and turned back to Niou. He gave Niou a kiss, short and sweet.

"Thank you," muttered Yagyuu.

"It's nothing," replied Niou. "No big deal. I just agreed to bring rackets over."

"Yes, but I still wish to thank you," said Yagyuu. "It's a shame we got interrupted today, but I assure you I will make it up to you soon." Their lips met again, inducing a hot lingering spark between them.

"I'll take you up on that another day then," said Niou.

"Yes, that's what I thought," said Yagyuu, meeting Niou's smile. "And I would also request that you put your shirt back on as I told you before. Last time I checked, you were not some frivolous stripper."

Niou rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said and went off to Yagyuu's room to retrieve his clothes before Yagyuu's son fell asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>~o~o~o~<strong>

* * *

><p>Niou ended up leaving Yagyuu's house quite late. After Yagyuu's son had finished his nap, Niou had been in charge of keeping him company while Yagyuu made supper.<p>

Supper was nice and relaxing. Niou didn't often get to eat home-cooked meals as he didn't know how to cook and visiting his parents was usually not worth it even if it meant a decent meal. Because of that, Niou didn't even complain that the desert was not to his liking (fruits are _not_ deserts).

Hiro-chan had played a bit afterwards, asked more questions and read a picture book with his father before a phone call warned Yagyuu that his wife was on her way to pick up Hiro-chan again. And while Niou had been okay meeting Yagyuu's son, he wasn't looking forward to ever meeting the gentleman's wife so Niou had decided that it was time to leave before she got here.

So there he was, slowly making his way back home. Even if it was growing late, he had no desire to go back to his own small, dark apartment. He would have been up for sleeping on Yagyuu's couch if he didn't have school early the next morning. He would have also not minded skipping class, but he was half-sure that he had an exam tomorrow so… skipping was probably a bad idea.

Niou internally groaned, leaning against a near street lamp. Yet another reason why he didn't want to go home. Then he would have to actually study. And sitting down in a silent room to read and memorize answers was not his idea of a beach party.

He looked around as if hoping to find something to distract him. The only thing that was around were the many clubs and bars layering the street. Niou frowned. He would get a drink but having a hangover during an exam didn't sound like a good idea either.

Plus it wasn't like he had any money to waste…

Suddenly, a light went off in Niou's head. That's right… he had no money. But he could earn some. He remembered that Yagyuu had been bugging him to get a job earlier today anyways. His last job in the coffee shop had been awful, but Niou simply decided that he wouldn't get a part-time job that involved dealing with people who hadn't had their morning coffee yet.

Niou was very excited now. The street had countless places to apply to! Niou could practically just pick one… he knew many people around here, and maybe some might be willing to get him a job somewhere!

In his excitement, Niou had forgotten about the crucial fact that he had absolutely zero bartending experience. His enthusiasm depleted when he remembered that he was better at drinking the drinks than actually knowing how to make them.

"Crap," said Niou out loud. Well, so much for getting a bartending job. Maybe the universe was trying to tell him to go home and study like a good boy.

Or maybe…

He turned and saw the bright flashing lights of the Imperial Palace. That was where he had met Yagyuu, he thought with a smile. Honestly, being a stripper was not his first choice and there was no way his parents or Yagyuu would approve, but hey, it was worth a shot. Life was about new experiences and Niou was definitely up to try something new, especially if the end result was spare money in his pockets.

And that was how Niou ended up walking inside the open doors of the Imperial Palace and asking the nearest dancer if they were hiring.

He was sure this wasn't what Yagyuu had in mind when he told him to get a job and make some money, but Niou had never been the type to follow perfect instructions anyways.

**~o~o~o~**


	11. Chapter 11

**Title: The Imperial Palace Chapter 11**

**Setting: Strip Club AU.**

**Rating: Le T. **

**Reason: This chapter was inspired by my friends' recent breakup. Yes, I know that makes me a bad friend but oh well. **

**Pairing: That broken Alpha pair problem.**

**Warnings: Uncreative content, possible OOC-ness, Yukimura is a confused soul, Sanada is in lovelove, fuck I want to hit everyone in this chapter, etc.**

**Disclaimer: Prince of tennis + Me = I own nothing.**

**~o~o~o~**

* * *

><p>The first rays of morning shined through the curtains, lighting up the bedroom the color of dawn. From outside, the sounds of cars and buses rolling people to work could be heard in the apartment. However, the noises of the bustling city had long ago stopped bothering Yukimura.<p>

Yukimura was never usually up this early. He would normally sleep until noon at the very least, especially since his job kept him up all night. Today was different. The clock told him it was nearly eight in the morning when he woke up. Yukimura quickly remembered that he had not gone to work the day before and it was enough to make him dread his shift later today. He blinked, adjusting his eyes to the light in the room. His head was pounding and he felt groggy, like he had nightmares all night and didn't get enough sleep. His eyes felt crusted and there were trails of dried up liquid on his cheeks. Yukimura didn't remember crying last night so it must have happened while he was asleep.

He rised from his bed and went to the washroom, stripping himself of his loose shirt on the way and dumping it on the floor. A quick look in the mirror showed that he looked as bad as he felt. His hair was a messy nest of tangles, his eyes rimmed red and his chin felt scraggly instead of the usual smoothness; he hadn't shaved in a few days.

As Yukimura went through his usually-in-the-afternoon-but-now-morning routine, he made it a challenge to not think about anything in particular. He washed his hair and body in the shower, brushed his teeth, combed his hair, got dressed and shaved his face in silence, his mind a blank buzz through it all. The whole time Yukimura felt like he was a ticking bomb, holding in something that was ready to explode.

He wasn't hungry but he poured himself a bowl of cereal. It was when he was seated at his desk, staring down at his bowl of grain and milk, that his concentration slipped and the thoughts swamped in before he could pull his guard back up.

"Damn it," swore Yukimura. He slammed his fist on the table, tears coming to his eyes. His hand started throbbing from the impact. He swore again.

Why was this happening? This was nothing new. Yukimura had dated before... he had dated multiple people in fact. Sanada hadn't even been around for that long. Most of the people Yukimura dated would last two or three times as long as Sanada and Yukimura would only end it when he felt things were getting too serious. But despite the short amount of time he and Sanada had been together…

He ached.

It was a good thing he had ended it there. It had been getting far too committment-like for him. Sanada had been very serious from the start but Yukimura had simply let it go, telling himself that he could have a bit of fun. Sanada had been so kind and caring, so Yukimura stalled, finding one excuse after another to go on yet another date with the handsome college student. And now this happened, this _ache. _

Sanada just had to ruin it by saying _that_. Yukimura could still picture Sanada's face so clearly in his mind as the raven-haired man opened his mouth and whispered those poisonous words.

_I love you._

Just remembering those words sent a shiver through Yukimura and filled him with fear and dread. Love, he thought, could only be associated with heartbreak and being caged.

Yukimura spent the rest of the day completing small chores around his house. He wasn't the type to clean very often but he couldn't just stay home doing nothing and be reminded of Sanada. He kept himself busy, straightening out his wardrobe, doing laundry, watering his plants, dusting every flat surface in his small apartment and getting groceries at the end of the day.

Yukimura was not looking forward to work tonight. After all, he had skipped work without a word to anyone yesterday. He had ignored the calls from Atobe and Fuji all night and he could just imagine how furious his boss was and how worried Fuji was. It wasn't something he had ever done before but he had felt far too vulnerable to work yesterday. He had anticipated that Sanada would be at his workplace to demand an explanation and Yukimura hadn't felt ready to confront him yet.

Today he had no choice. Yukimura had to show up and that probably meant facing Sanada and his boss. He was dreading it.

The evening came far faster then Yukimura would have liked. His walk to work was taken in small steps with as many detours as he could find. Yukimura stood outside the Imperial Palace until he could stall no longer. He took a deep breath before walking in. _Just smile and make up an excuse_, he thought.

Jackal let him in with a nod. The security guard's worried face said it all: _You are in so much trouble. _

The club was not yet open for the night. The stage was being lit up and the tables were being wiped. The other employees stopped their conversations the moment Yukimura entered and everything became unnaturally quiet. Mukahi and Zaizen gave him looks of pity, knowing Yukimura was in for hell tonight. Shiraishi looked relieved and gave him a small smile. Tezuka blinked at him but went back to wiping his counter a second later. There was a young man standing close to Fuji; the young man had silver hair and looked vaguely familiar but Yukimura didn't think much about it.

Fuji was the last one to meet his eyes. Fuji looked relieved for a second and then his face turned into a frown. Yukimura shook his head and nodded towards the door leading to the dressing rooms. They would talk later, in private. Right now there was something else Yukimura needed to do.

Yukimura heard the footsteps before he even moved from his spot.

A cold wind swept through the club and Yukimura could swear the room suddenly got darker. The door leading upstairs to Atobe's office slammed open so hard Yukimura was surprised the wood didn't break. Atobe stood behind the door and Yukimura had never seen his boss look so furious. It seemed like thunderclouds were looming over Atobe's head, crackling menacingly with each step Atobe took.

Yukimura swallowed thickly and stepped forward to face his imminent doom.

* * *

><p><strong>~o~o~o~<strong>

* * *

><p>The imminent doom wasn't pretty.<p>

Yukimura had to stand perfectly still for what felt like an hour well Atobe ranted on and on about his complete lack of responsibility, how he should be fired for skipping work, what problems Yukimura had caused for the whole club in his absence and mainly what a stupid jerk he was. The verbal assault continued until Fuji mercifully interrupted Atobe, saying that the club was ready to open its doors and that Yukimura was not yet dressed. Atobe cursed at him once more, threatened to fire him if it ever happened again, and then waved them away. Yukimura muttered an apology, knowing he was going to have to work extra hard all week to make up for his missed day.

At least that was one thing over and dealt with. The next obstacle was in front of him in the form of Fuji. Yukimura didn't want to talk about the reason he had decided to skip work yesterday but there was no doubt that Fuji wouldn't yield until his curiosity and concern was put at ease.

Fuji at least had the decency to let Yukimura get dressed in peace. Their changing room had gotten new costumes in Yukimura's absence. Instead of the usual tight and tighter leather, what he found was frills.

"A maid?" asked Yukimura, holding up the frilly apron. Fuji had just finished changing and came out wearing the very short black and white attire and thigh-high stockings. Fuji looked far better in that outfit than he had any right to.

"Yes, it's Atobe's new theme," nodded Fuji. "And yes you do have to wear the whole thing. Shiraishi tried bending the rules yesterday and Atobe wasn't happy."

It didn't take long for Yukimura to strip down and put on the skimpy outfit. Unlike Fuji's, his was mostly white with a very exposed backside. The skirt barely covered his ass and his white stockings were made of lace. Fuji helped him tie the apron and put on the finishing touches: a choker and some equally frilly headpiece.

"I feel stupid," said Yukimura, looking at himself in the mirror.

"Well the customers are very enthusiastic about this theme so I assure you they'll be thinking of much dirtier things when they see you."

"Thanks Fuji, that makes me feel so much better," said Yukimura. God, he was not in the mood for this. Today was going to be so busy and Yukimura knew he wouldn't have a moment of relaxation all night. It would be an endless night of dancing and flirting with people he didn't know. Yukimura couldn't remember the last time he had been so unenthusiastic towards his job. He sighed and slumped down on the couch.

Fuji waited in silence for a minute and then that was when it started.

"What's going on, Yukimura?" said Fuji.

Yukimura blinked, then smiled sweetly. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Yukimura," said Fuji. "You missed work the other day; something you've never done before. You look exhausted and I know that the sweeter your smile is, the more you're trying to hide something. Now talk."

Yukimura's smile flew off in a second. He looked at Fuji sceptically.

"And how many days of observation did it take you to figure that one out?" asked Yukimura.

"About a few hours. Don't change the subject."

Yukimura sigh and looked down at the floor. The room turned quiet save for the sound of loud music emitting from the club. Fuji didn't talk, deciding to let Yukimura have a moment to think it over. He knew he couldn't force Yukimura to tell him what was wrong, but Fuji was concerned. As a friend, it was only fair that he wanted to know.

Finally, Yukimura opened his mouth.

"I… dumped Sanada," said Yukimura.

Fuji nodded. "Ah, that's what I thought," he said. "But you liked him- no, Yukimura, no use denying it, I can see it in your eyes. Sanada-kun was a good guy and I know you liked him a lot. But if it caused you this much grief, then why did you dump him?"

Yukimura swallowed thickly. "He told me he loved me."

Fuji sighed. "Oh, Yuki-"

"No, I don't want to hear it," snapped Yukimura. He stood up, not wanting to hear Fuji's usual talk that meddled in his love life. "I don't feel the same as him. He likes me a whole lot more than I like him. It's not what I signed up for."

"You could just give him a chance and wait-"

"If I stayed with him, I would only be leading him on and preparing him for an even bigger heartbreak. He should be glad I ended it there."

"Are you glad then, Yukimura?" asked Fuji. "Because you look really unhappy about it."

Yukimura turned away. "It doesn't matter. I made my choice. I'm going to work now."

Fuji cringed when the door slammed shut behind Yukimura. Fuji felt sad that his friend was acting this way. He really wanted Yukimura to find someone he could let his guard down around and just be happy with. It was so sad that Yukimura kept an iron wall around his heart and knocked down everyone who got too close. _I'm being cautious,_ Yukimura had told him once. _That way I won't get hurt._

Oh, how he wished he could help.

* * *

><p><strong>~o~o~o~<strong>

* * *

><p>It was after hours and hours of dancing and grinding that Yukimura allowed himself a short break to drink a glass of water. Tezuka gave him an icy glass the moment Yukimura came close, as if the bartender could somehow read minds. Yukimura drank his water, looking around the club. The music was booming and people were everywhere, lining up outside the door by the looks of it. All the dancers and waiters were being kept very busy. Even Tezuka was sweating, trying to keep up with all the orders he was getting with difficulty.<p>

Yukimura spotted Fuji leaving the dance floor, pocketing some bills after a dance with a small group of young men and women.

There was the silver-haired guy trailing Fuji around the club and Yukimura cocked his head to the side, wondering where it was he had seen the young man before. The new guy's hair was rather long and slicked back as neatly as possible, probably to match his butler uniform - or what used to be a butler uniform before the top had been discarded. The young man was thin and pale, but he appeared to be learning fast and had no qualms about undressing.

As he got closer, Yukimura remembered where it was he had seen the silver-haired young man. The young man had been with Sanada, the night they had first met. Yukimura blanched.

"Ah, Yukimura!" Fuji spotted him and went to him, the trainee trailing not far behind. "This is the new guy, Niou Masaharu. I don't think you two have met yet."

Yukimura forced a pleasant smile and greeted Niou. Instead of greeting him back, Niou shot him what could only be described as a glare.

"We've met, or at least I know who you are. You're the guy who broke Sanada's heart," said Niou. Yukimura's heart sank. "You've been avoiding him, yeah? He tells me he came here last night looking for you and you won't return his calls."

Yukimura clenched his teeth. "That," he said, "is none of your business."

Niou shrugged. "No, I suppose it isn't," he said. "Still, I wouldn't have taken you for the fuck'em-and-leave'em type when I first saw you. I guess looks are deceiving. I can't wait to hear what excuse you'll tell Sanada tonight."

Fuji had the good sense to drag Niou out of there before he could do anymore damage. Yukimura stood there, shaking in anger. He was angry at everyone. He was angry at Niou for insulting him. He was angry that everyone was taking Sanada's side. He was angry at himself for being a coward. And he was angry that Niou's words had held some truth.

People were starting to eye him and Yukimura remembered he had a job to do. Niou had implied that Sanada was going to be here tonight but the last thing he wanted was to deal with that right now. Luckily Yukimura didn't see Sanada anywhere yet. If he stayed hidden on the dance floor, then perhaps Sanada would not see him even if he did come to the Imperial Palace today. He turned around to do just that when he bumped into someone.

"Excuse me-" Yukimura's voice trailed off when he ended up staring right into Sanada's face.

Yukimura froze like a statue, seeing Sanada slowly shut his phone. This time, there was no lingering adoration radiating from the larger man. Sanada's eyes were steel cold. Yukimura swallowed thickly, his heart racing. He had never seen Sanada looking angry before. Far behind Sanada, Yukimura could see Niou snapping his phone shut as well as he smirked and waved innocently at Yukimura. That... _trickster! _Yukimura was going to murder Niou for giving away his position like this.

"You," Sanada hit him hard on the chest with an accusing finger, "have made a fool out of me."

Yukimura took a step back. It was suddenly hard to breath.

"I thought it was a fluke at first, you know," said Sanada, his eyes downcast. "I thought you didn't receive my calls, or that you were sick and unable to come to work. I was a fool, wasn't I?"

Yukimura said nothing. The guilt returned to him with stronger force than before.

"Tell me this at least," said Sanada. "Did I do something wrong?"

Slowly, Yukimura shook his head. No… it wasn't Sanada. Sanada had treated him far better than anyone ever had... and perhaps that was why he was scared.

"No, it's not you," whispered Yukimura, barely audible over the loud music.

Sanada exhaled in relief. The cold melted from his eyes, replaced by warmth and longing. He reached out and cupped Yukimura's cheek in his palm. The bluenette stood immobilized, feeling a tugging pain in his chest. Sanada looked at him with the same love as before, as if this whole ordeal had never happened. Yukimura hated it. He hated how naïve Sanada was, yet Yukimura didn't want to pull away from the hand on his cheek.

It was when Sanada leaned in that Yukimura snapped back, turning his head away to dodge a kiss.

"Don't," hissed Yukimura, shaking Sanada's hand off.

"Why not?" Sanada's tone was challenging. "Give me an explanation at least. I think I deserve that much."

Yukimura didn't answer, staring hard at a spot on the floor.

"Please Yukimura," said Sanada. Yukimura felt like a knife was being stabbed through his chest. "Tell me what's wrong. I can't help you if you don't tell me. Please, I love y-"

"Don't say that!" yelled Yukimura angrily, startling Sanada.

Yukimura took yet another step back. This was exactly why he couldn't keep on doing this any longer. Sanada always looked at him with nothing but complete adoration, always gave him gifts and would cook when he was hungry and stay up late to ask him how his day went, and it was all too much. This was too much for something that started off as a one-night thing. Sanada wasn't supposed to have come back to the Imperial Palace and Yukimura was not supposed to have accepted to go out on dates with him.

Yukimura tried stomping away but Sanada was faster and darted in front of him in a flash.

"Move. I have a job to do," said Yukimura.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

"I won't tell you."

"Then I'm not moving."

"I'll call security," said Yukimura. "And trust me, we're big on kicking out clients and getting restraining orders when they get too clingy."

Sanada's expression flashed with hurt. This time he let Yukimura walk past him to the awaiting crowd.

Yukimura didn't look back. Instead, he realized that Atobe was looking at him from his seat at the bar as if he was wondering why Yukimura wasn't currently doing his job. The bluenette sighed. He just couldn't get a break today.

He agreed to dance with the next person who walked up to him, flashing a 2000 yen bill at him with a wink. Yukimura forced himself to smile at the young man and followed him to the dance floor. The man appeared to be the average drunk college student that came in everyday when he should be studying. The man danced sloppily, swaying from side to side and groping his behind. So long as the client didn't get touchier, Yukimura could handle it. If he wasn't feeling so down, Yukimura would have attempted to be far more social. He used to like having this sort of effect on the men here, being the object of their affection, like a prize they couldn't get.

Halfway through the dance, Yukimura allowed himself to look back at where he had left Sanada. He found Sanada sitting at the nearby table, staring at him. Yukimura turned and continued grinding but could feel Sanada's gaze boring into his back the whole time.

The same thing happened when Yukimura moved on to the next customer. This time it was a businessman in a suit too big for him and a loose necktie. Every time Yukimura looked back, he found Sanada staring at him. The man he was dancing with murmured something that Yukimura didn't catch.

"Sorry?" Yukimura asked.

"I said you seem distracted," said the man, his breath thick with the stink of alcohol.

Yukimura smiled coyly. "Oh, don't worry. You have my _full_ attention," he whispered, emphasizing it by rubbing himself all over the man.

But the man was right and Yukimura couldn't help but be distracted. His annoyance grew as the night went on. Sanada didn't leave, just sitting there and staring and it was driving him mad. It was normally encouraged for the dancers to slowly peel off their layers of clothes as the night went on, but Yukimura didn't remove a single piece of clothing, too conscious of the eyes on him.

After several more dances and clients, Yukimura felt ready to snap. He broke himself free of the customer's grasp as soon as the song ended and stomped over to Sanada.

"Stop it," said Yukimura, crossing his arms angrily.

Sanada blinked innocently at him from his chair. "What is it?"

"You know what it is!" said Yukimura. "You've been staring at me all night long! I am a hairbreadth's away from calling security and getting you kicked out."

Sanada snorted. "Now you are being paranoid." He lifted his glass, full of some untouched beverage. "I'm a paying customer."

Yukimura let out a humourless laugh. "Right, because customers in a strip club come in for the drinks. It's not like you ever dance with anyone."

Sanada's eyes glinted challengingly. He put his glass down and rose from his seat. Yukimura suddenly felt very small with Sanada towering over him, but he wasn't about to back down now. The bluenette stared back and stood his ground.

Suddenly, Sanada thrust a handful of bills into his hands. Yukimura stared, confused.

"What's this for?"

"You just said I never dance with anyone. So I'm now requesting a dance. From you," said Sanada. "It is your job, isn't it?"

It took all of Yukimura's self control to not throw the money back in Sanada's face. "Keep your money. I'm not dancing with you," he said and turned his back to Sanada.

"Are you sure that's wise?" called out Sanada. "I am a paying customer and I do think it is within your club's policies to dance when the customer asks. You will see that I gave you a hefty enough sum."

"It's not about the money, you dolt!"

"Then I don't see why you are refusing. Shall I have a talk with your manager then? That's him over there by the bar, right?"

Yes, that was indeed Atobe seated at the bar, sipping his drink and chatting with Oshitari as usual. Damn it, Yukimura knew he couldn't get reprimanded again… he couldn't afford to lose his job.

"Bastard," muttered Yukimura under his breath.

Sanada followed him back to the dance floor, crowded between the packs of swaying bodies. Sanada then stopped and looked at him expectantly. Yukimura made a show of sighing and moving so that their hips touched, putting one of Sanada's legs between his own. The bluenette felt himself blush even though he had been doing this sort of thing all night with the other clients. It was so different... touching Sanada like this felt like being shocked by electricity. Through the smells of sweat and liquor, Yukimura could detect that musky husk emitting from Sanada. A new song started playing and Yukimura moved like he was on automatic. Sanada said nothing, wrapping one hand around Yukimura's hip.

They were just so close and Yukimura had trouble thinking. Once again, Yukimura found himself cracking first.

"So why are you still here if you're going to do nothing but stare at me all night?" asked the bluenette.

"I came back here because, as you may very well be aware of already, I do like you very much," said Sanada. "And you still haven't told me why you left me, nor why you are being very hostile towards me right now. It makes me very sad, you know."

"Fine. I dated you for the sex. Is that what you want to hear?" demanded Yukimura.

"No. At least try to make it more believable," said Sanada.

Yukimura resisted the urge to swear at Sanada. God, he hated this. He hated how being this close to Sanada made his head spin with longing. Sanada's arms and chest were pleasingly solid under his fingertips and every grind made him want to pin Sanada's hips in place and thrust back.

He was remembering all those times they went out on dates and he would step into Sanada's warm embrace and let Sanada comfort him after a long day of work. He remembered how they kissed and it would always make Yukimura feel light-headed. Oh, how easy would it be to just wrap his arms around Sanada and say he was sorry and that he missed him? And then what? Yukimura would simply continue feeling undeserving of Sanada's love and attention. Sanada's infatuation would eventually wear off and he'd realize soon enough that Yukimura was nothing special. That was how it always happened. Things are always nice and fun until someone gets hurt.

"Fine, you want the truth?" snarled Yukimura. He wrapped his arms around Sanada's neck to let his body come in full contact with the taller man. "Our relationship was a one-way street; you gave and gave and I did nothing but take."

Sanada frowned. "But I like you. I want to make you happy."

"And eventually you would have realized that I never do anything for you," said Yukimura. "Because while you've made your feelings for me very clear, I don't feel the same way. I don't love you." He ground his hips in again. Sanada made a strangled noise and Yukimura remembered with amusement the first time they had met. "Don't soil your pants now," he said with a small smile. The memory of their first meeting was still amusing.

"I won't," said Sanada, his voice gone low and empty.

Yukimura stopped dancing, seeing that his comment had greatly hurt him. Sanada had probably been under the impression that Yukimura felt the same way towards him and had been too infatuated to see any imbalances in their relationship. Yukimura bit his lip. He should just leave it at that, part now and then they wouldn't see each other again.

But... Sanada's heartbroken expression made Yukimura's guilty conscious rise and he couldn't stop himself from trying to fix this.

"Sanada, I- …I'm sorry. I like you and you are a very nice guy. You'll find a great person someday who will make you very happy," said Yukimura gently.

"But I want you. I don't want someone else," muttered Sanada.

"I'm sorry," repeated Yukimura, "for everything. For leaving you so abruptly. For giving you false hope. I shouldn't have accepted your proposals when I knew I had no intention of being in a serious relationship."

Sanada was looking at him with that searching gaze again. Yukimura shifted uncomfortably. The song was over, switching to a hip-hop dance song that was very inappropriate for the current situation.

"I could wait for you. If you aren't ready now, I can wait until you are," said Sanada, not giving up.

It was heartbreaking for Yukimura to see such a usually proud man breaking down, clinging to a lost hope. Sanada looked so tired and sad like he would never be happy again. Yukimura thought he was going to be sick from the guilt. Yukimura knew he had to stop this before he did something he would regret.

"You had your dance. I'll go now," said Yukimura and left. Sanada remained standing motionless in the middle of the dance floor.

**~o~o~o~**


	12. Chapter 12

**Title: The Imperial Palace Chapter 12 **

**Setting: Strip Club AU.**

**Rating: Mature-ish. **

**Reason: My lovely followers were asking for this chapter, so ta-da! I feel so awful for making you all wait this long. Knis has been very bad. ;_; I'm sorry. **

**Pairing: P-E-R-F-E-C-T pair. And that broken!Alpha Pair Problem is back. **

**Warnings: Uncreative content, possible OOC-ness, SexualFrustration!Tezuka, WorriedTsundere!Yukimura, EvenMoreWorried!Fuji, etc. **

**Disclaimer: do you honestly think I own prince of tennis? Sorry I'm not konomi-sensei in disguise. **

**~o~o~o~**

* * *

><p>Over the course of the last several days, there was a distinctly different atmosphere at the Imperial Palace.<p>

It wasn't the workplace itself or the odd costumes that had changed (although all the exotic dancers were now garbed in short skimpy togas and elaborate jewellery that mimicked those of Greek gods), but rather it was certain employees that were acting very differently. It was something Tezuka noticed right away.

The lead stripper, Fuji, always made a habit of visiting Tezuka during his breaks, winking at him from a distance and meeting his eyes during his famous dance numbers. While Tezuka was often too busy to stop and respond to Fuji's words, he had never found it to be a nuisance; in fact he liked it when Fuji came to see him. It was only now that Fuji had completely stopped visiting the bar that Tezuka realized how uneventful his job was. Without Fuji visiting him, Tezuka had nothing to look forward to during his shifts.

At first Tezuka had thought back and wondered if he had done anything that might have hurt or offended Fuji in any way. Surely Fuji was not avoiding him for no reason. However, it quickly became obvious that the problem was not Tezuka nor Fuji but something else entirely.

He had first heard about it from Oshitari a few nights ago.

"Yukimura's been looking down lately," Oshitari had said while draining his third glass. "I heard he dumped his boyfriend. What a waste, don't you think?"

Tezuka had said nothing in return. Yukimura's personal life was none of his business, but he did wonder what had happened, especially since he still saw Sanada sitting in the club every night.

But soon Tezuka grew aware of Fuji sticking very close to Yukimura, whispering to him during their breaks and constantly shooting him worried glances. Whatever Fuji was telling Yukimura seemed to aggravate the bluenette more and more with each passing day. Tezuka then realized that Fuji was preoccupied with his friend and that was the reason Fuji wasn't hanging around the bar area as often as usual.

The strange new tension between Yukimura and Fuji reached a peak after a week. It was only lucky that the club had just closed its doors for the night when it all erupted.

"I keep on telling you not to meddle, Fuji!" shouted Yukimura at the top of his lungs, looking angrier than Tezuka had ever seen him. Tezuka paused in his cleaning, seeing that all the other employees were looking at the center of the dance floor where Fuji and Yukimura were facing each other. Yukimura had his arms crossed and looked absolutely frustrated.

"I just think you are making a mistake, Yukimura," said Fuji gently.

"Don't think I don't see what you do every night! I see the way you are encouraging _him_, telling him that he still has a chance with me when that is not true at all!" yelled Yukimura. He pointed an accusing finger at Fuji. "You're the reason Sanada keeps on coming back night after night, aren't you? Do you think it's fun to meddle in my love life for your own amusement?"

"That's not it, Yukimura," said Fuji. "I admit, I may have spoken to Sanada-kun but he is not giving up on you and that has nothing to do with what I've been telling him."

Yukimura stormed off in a flash and Fuji followed him to the changing rooms, slamming the door behind him. The murmuring resumed between the other employees as they gossiped about what they had just witnessed.

Tezuka frowned. He accidentally hit a glass with his elbow, making it fall down and shatter on the floor. He looked down at the glass shards blankly for a few seconds before bending to pick them up, being careful not to cut himself in the process. He had hoped Fuji would have come talk to him today. He enjoyed Fuji's company, although the dancer did say things that make him stutter sometimes, but that was not the reason he needed to see Fuji right now.

This…_ thing_ they had between them… Tezuka wasn't quite sure what to call it. There was a definite attraction between them but they had yet to see each other outside the club and they didn't even know each other's phone numbers. However, regardless of what their relationship was, Tezuka only had a few days left and he was fairly certain that leaving without telling Fuji was not at all a bright idea.

Tezuka had given his notice to Atobe weeks ago. His boss hadn't been too happy with the news, saying that Tezuka was the best bartender they had had in a long time and had even offered Tezuka a raise, but Tezuka was decided. He had accumulated enough money over the last year to last him till the end of his schooling. Now that he had a thesis paper and internship to do, he was fully prepared to focus on school without letting work distract him.

Now if only he could find the proper time to tell Fuji… and maybe hint towards meeting outside the club once in a while. Tezuka wasn't confident that he could flirt and ask someone out, but maybe Fuji would be able to read his intentions once he knew Tezuka was quitting his job soon.

Tezuka had just finished cleaning up the last of the glass shards when Yukimura and Fuji came back out of the dressing rooms. Everyone else had already left by then. Yukimura didn't even say goodbye; he just left out the front door without so much as a glance at Tezuka or Fuji. Normally Tezuka would feel slightly anxious about being alone with Fuji in the club but today Fuji was simply staring at the door with a sad expression on his face.

The stripper sighed. "He's mad at me," said Fuji. He looked so sad that Tezuka paused, feeling ready to go console him. Fuji was back in the jeans and shirt he usually wore when he wasn't working. Even with the baggy shirt and pants, anyone could see Fuji was a stunningly beautiful person. Tezuka could look at him forever and never grow bored.

"Give him time," said Tezuka in response.

"I suppose…" Fuji walked towards the stage, looking up at the lone pole standing in the center of it. "I've been so worried about him that I didn't practice my new routine today."

Tezuka heard the clacking of shoes stepping up the stairs to the stage. The sound echoed in the near-empty room until Fuji was standing in front of the pole, touching it with his hand.

"Mind if I practice?" asked Fuji.

"Go ahead," said Tezuka. He wasn't done cleaning yet anyways.

And so Fuji moved and Tezuka found that he couldn't look away.

Even if Fuji was fully clothed and had no music to guide him, it didn't stop him from moving fluidly around the pole like he had been born to do that job. Tezuka was vaguely aware that he had some cleaning to do but all he could focus on was Fuji, bending lower and rubbing the pole along the cleft of his ass. Tezuka swallowed thickly and Fuji just continued, not paying attention to the stares coming in his direction. Fuji wrapped his legs around the pole, grinding, climbing and twisting and caressing it so that Tezuka couldn't help but be jealous of that piece of metal.

Tezuka mentally shook himself free from Fuji's spell before he could mount the stage and give Fuji something better to rub himself on.

Tezuka caught Fuji's eyes after his next spin. He could see that Fuji's mind was elsewhere, his forehead furrowed with worry. It was then that Fuji stopped, the pole trapped between his thighs.

"I know I shouldn't meddle but I worry about him," said Fuji, his hands forming a fist. He wasn't quite in the mood for dancing as much as he felt like being comforted. "Yukimura's all alone and he's hurting himself. I just know he's making a mistake but nothing I do is helping."

Tezuka put down his cleaning rag, immediately seeing that a bit of consoling was in order. He joined Fuji on the stage, letting the slighter dancer lean against his chest. Tezuka delicately cradled Fuji, fingers shifting through the stripper's soft hair.

"Yukimura's an adult," said Tezuka. He was proud that his voice didn't waver and that his hands didn't wander despite how aroused he felt; Fuji's dance had cerainly taken its toll on the bartender. "I'm sure he can take care of himself."

"Yes, but sometimes he needs to let others take care of him. He needs to open up and let people in," said Fuji. "At this rate, he's just going to continue hurting himself."

No one would have wanted to be in Tezuka's shoes at the moment. Tezuka's body was screaming for more contact, to release some of that pent up tension and to satisfy the urge he's had all night from watching Fuji perform for a group of lucky men. Tezuka had been ashamed to realize that he had been slightly jealous of Fuji's clients today. Then there was Tezuka's very rational mind, telling him that Fuji was very visibly worried and upset about this whole Yukimura dilemma and that Tezuka would definitely be doing the right thing by rubbing Fuji's back soothingly and listening to him talk. Smearing his crotch against Fuji's would not be the polite thing to do at the moment. Regardless of the road he picked, Tezuka was sure he wouldn't end up winning in either situations.

Still, Tezuka had never been one to be controlled by his urges, so the decision was quite obvious. Besides… Tezuka reminded himself that he did have something quite urgent to discuss with Fuji about his fast approaching leave from the Imperial Palace.

"I don't think there's anything you can do without angering him at this point," said Tezuka. "You are a good friend and care for him a lot so don't beat yourself up over it. Over time Yukimura will come to see that you meant well."

"Hm, I think that's the most words you've ever said to me in a row," said Fuji, his sad expression curving up at the edge of his lips. "But thank you, Tezuka. Thank you for listening."

And then Fuji pressed himself even tighter against Tezuka for a grateful and very much innocent embrace... or rather, it was meant to be innocent. Tezuka stiffened, his breath catching in his throat as he felt the whole line of Fuji's body alongside his. He was certain Fuji could feel him just as well, along with the lump hidden in his pants.

Fuji's eyes shot open in an instant. He stayed in position, as if making sure that he wasn't imagining it.

"Tezuka?"

"Hn?"

"Are you _aroused?_" asked Fuji curiously.

"I... didn't mean it- I-I was just..." Tezuka sighed, giving up and answering the question with a muttered, "Y-Yes."

For a brief second, Tezuka wondered if Fuji was angry. He opened his mouth to apologize but ended up yelping as Fuji reach down to cup him through his pants.

Fuji licked his lips, his worried expression disappearing in a flash. "You do know how to cheer me up well," said Fuji and then leaned up for a kiss. Tezuka kissed him back, letting Fuji's dexterous tongue slide inside his mouth. He soon became aware of Fuji unbuttoning his shirt and Tezuka would have paid it more attention if Fuji wasn't currently sucking at his tongue like it was the most delicious thing in the world.

Instead of throwing Tezuka's shirt away, Fuji pulled until only Tezuka's arms were still trapped within the sleeves. Fuji broke the kiss, carefully pushing Tezuka back until the bartender could feel the metal pole along his back, the same pole Tezuka had been so jealous of mere minutes ago. Before Tezuka could have time to wonder what Fuji was up to, the dancer flitted behind him, tying Tezuka's arms behind him with the shirt until his arms were completely immobilized around the pole. Fuji stepped back to admire his handiwork. Tezuka tested it out by pulling, but sure enough he was well restrained. He didn't dare pull harder in fear of ripping his shirt.

It had taken a few times for Tezuka to notice the pattern. The pattern was varied and used different materials and methods, but without fail, Fuji always managed to tie him up in one way or another when they were intimate. Tezuka didn't mind and he didn't ask the reason for it either; he simply assumed Fuji had a preference for it. But after the last few times, the urge for more started growing inside Tezuka. He wanted to touch Fuji's skin as well, feel it shift under his fingers and drawing out gasps and moans from those pretty pink lips.

Fuji returned to his first position to kiss him again. Tezuka shivered, pausing and trying to regain some of his senses, hazily recalling that he was supposed to be telling Fuji something very important.

"Fuji," Tezuka began with a gasp, seeing Fuji's head dip lower. "You know, I've been – _ah_ – working here for a while."

Finger rubbed along his chest, pausing to massage his nipples until they were stiff. Fuji paused in the middle of kissing the skin just above Tezuka's navel. "Hm, yes, it has been a while," Fuji muttered idly. He resumed tracing Tezuka's skin with his tongue, dipping down dangerously low. Tezuka gasped again and bucked his hips.

"Y-Yes, and as you know, I'm due to start writing my thesis and…" Tezuka paused to swallow, looking down at where Fuji was unbuttoning his pants and drawing him out slowly. "I-I just recently accepted an internship."

"Hm, well I'm not worried for you. You are a smart person and very dedicated to your schoolwork," said Fuji.

"That's why I- _Ohh_!" Tezuka let out longest, loudest moan when, without warning, Fuji suddenly licked up his cock, tasting the base and sucking along the tip. Fuji covered it with sucking kisses, flashing a coy smile up at Tezuka and grinning even wider when he got a reaction. Tezuka flexed his hips for more and Fuji soon obliged, taking him into his mouth all the way to the hilt without any apparent discomfort. Tezuka briefly wondered just how much practice Fuji had gotten to be this good when Fuji bobbed his head, steadily letting Tezuka fuck his mouth, and then the bartender officially had no more room left for rational thoughts.

The movements were ceaseless, the friction unbearable. Tezuka felt ready to explode, his legs ready to give out when Fuji pulled back, releasing his cock with a soft pop. Tezuka's arms fought against his bindings, not knowing whether he should be sighing in relief or frustration. Luckily he didn't have to worry about it for long. Fuji's tongue was back shortly, tracing the large vein along the underside, playing along the crown of the swollen head and then roaming back up to lap at the leaking slit. Tezuka knew he wouldn't last long at this rate. He could hear himself in the quiet room, embarrassing moans spilling out one after the other uncontrollably. He heard a wet slurping noise and he was once against surrounded by Fuji's blissful throat as it hummed around him.

A deep guttural cry was Fuji's only warning before tangy white essence coated his lips. He could taste a bit with the tip of his tongue. The rest of the plentiful liquid spurted over his chin and cheeks. He let Tezuka finish and only then did he work on licking away the remnants from Tezuka's sensitive cock. Tezuka twitched feebly in place.

Fuji licked the last from his lips with an approving sound, stuffing Tezuka back into his pants. Tezuka vaguely noticed Fuji standing back up, reaching up for a kiss. The kiss was sloppy and tasted bitter. When Fuji untied his hands, Tezuka slumped back against the pole for support. His shirt was so rumpled that Tezuka didn't want to wear it anymore.

"You were quite eager today. What brought this on?" Fuji chuckled.

Tezuka grunted, trying to get his voice to function again. "You can't expect me to feel nothing after having watched you dance all week without release."

Fuji hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose it's my fault then. I haven't spent much time with you lately, what with my concerns getting the better of me."

"No, it's alright," said Tezuka. "I understand. There is no need to apologize. Your concern for your friend is important."

The dancer sighed in relief, flashing him a grateful sort of smile. "Hm, well I did like this eager side of you," said Fuji. "Perhaps I should pay less attention to you more often. The results at the end of the week would be worth it, especially if it gets you to be more forward with me, _Te-zu-ka_."

Tezuka cleared his throat, fighting back the blush threatening to appear on his cheeks. He buttoned up his rumpled shirt and pushed his glasses back up his nose.

"And as I was saying before, you'll do just fine in school. You have no need to worry about it," said Fuji, beaming happily and then kissing Tezuka a final time.

It was once Fuji had left that Tezuka mentally berated himself, assigning himself extra reading work tonight as punishment for Fuji still was not aware that Tezuka would no longer be working there in a few days time. He was still going to have to tell him, preferably sooner than later. It was hard… Tezuka had doubts about it. Tezuka knew it was ridiculous, but there was always the chance Fuji had no interest in seeing him outside of the Imperial Palace. Maybe Fuji was not looking for anything serious... maybe that was why they had never seen each other outside the club...

_Tomorrow I'll tell him_, thought Tezuka. Tomorrow for sure.

* * *

><p><strong>~o~o~o~<strong>

* * *

><p>Sanada didn't show up the next day.<p>

Yukimura was acting extremely distracted throughout the whole night. The bluenette kept on looking at the entrance and then shifting his gaze around the room frantically. All the other dancers noticed quickly. It didn't take a genius to know who Yukimura was searching for.

"He's not here today?" asked Shiraishi, surprised. It was strange. Sanada came every single night no matter how angry Yukimura got or how many insults Yukimura hurtled at him. Without fail, Sanada was always there.

"Well I don't see him," said Yukimura, looking at the entrance again. Anxiety was radiating off of Yukimura today. There was still a bit of time left for Sanada to show up. The club closed in an hour… but Yukimura had the feeling that Sanada was not going to come today. Sanada would have been here by now.

Yukimura could only think of one major reason as to why Sanada wasn't here today: Perhaps Sanada had finally gotten the message through his thick skull and gave up on him.

A pang of pain shot through Yukimura at the thought. Not having Sanada here was strange. Knowing that Sanada was not vigilantly staring at him felt strangely empty. Despite the curses and insults Yukimura had thrown at Sanada over the weeks, Yukimura had been certain that Sanada would always return to him without fail, night after night.

Damn it... this was exactly what Yukimura had wanted and yet here he was, not at all happy. He was alone again and it truly felt isolating. Damn, why was he acting this way? He wanted Sanada to move on and give up on him! He didn't want Sanada nipping at his heels, insisting that he loved him despite everything. If Sanada had given up on him then it was a good thing! It was what Yukimura had wanted all along...

"Do you think something happened to him?" asked Yukimura suddenly. Shiraishi shrugged. They were both leaning back, the rush of clients having just gone now that the club was getting ready to close. Both dancers were sweaty and lacking a large amount of clothing, but the number of tips in their pockets was worth it.

"Like what?" asked Shiraishi.

"I don't know, but isn't it strange?" said Yukimura. "He was here yesterday pestering me as usual and today he's suddenly gone. This isn't right. He's not the type to give up easily."

"Well with the string of curses you've been hurling at him lately, I wouldn't be surprised if Sanada-kun's finally had enough," said Shiraishi.

The words stung but Yukimura was certain that it wasn't it… or at least, that's what he kept on telling himself.

"No, I know something isn't right. Something must have happened to make him unable to come today," said Yukimura. What if Sanada had gotten hurt or injured or in a car accident or a bus accident or choked on something or got cut during kendo practice? Yukimura's thought whirled in place, increasing his anxiety by the second.

"I'm sure Sanada-kun is fine," said Shiraishi.

They went back to work after that but Yukimura's thoughts were still elsewhere. For the next hour, Yukimura continued staring with increased desperateness at the door, silently hoping for Sanada to walk in and put his worries to rest. Yukimura was so tempted to call Sanada and demand to know why he was absent today. It took Yukimura's greatest self-control to put his phone down.

His sense of unease peeked high when the night was over, the doors were closed and still Sanada had not come. Something was definitely wrong. Sanada always showed up. Sanada would not simply give up on him like that!

Yukimura changed back into his regular clothes after work all the while looking at his cellphone again and again. He should call, he thought, just to see if Sanada was alive and okay. Just one press of a number, Sanada would answer and that would be all Yukimura needed. Yukimura first waited until Fuji and Shiraishi had cleared the dressing room before his picked up his phone and pressed, very hesitantly, on Sanada's number.

His heart raced, faster and faster with each ring. There was nothing for the first few rings… then it continued, again and again, ring after ring until finally there was a robotic female voice telling him that the number he had dialed was not available and to try again at a later time.

Frowning, Yukimura dialled again but there was still no answer. How strange. Had something really happened to Sanada?

No. Sanada was just fine. Something had probably come up… friends, family, school, anything that would make him too busy to come today. Nothing bad had happened. Yukimura told himself that he was just imagining things. Sanada would be back tomorrow and everything would be back to normal. Right?

...

...

...Fuck.

Yukimura cursed, grabbing his jacket and bolting out of the Imperial Palace as fast as he could.

The air outside was cool compared to inside. The buses didn't run very often this late at night so Yukimura knew he would have to get to Sanada's apartment on foot. Despite it all, he didn't pause to think and simply ran in the right direction.

His lungs burned before he even made the halfway point but still he continued, worry gnawing at his chest.

Yukimura reached the apartment building later than he would've liked. He panted, nearly collapsing on the floor as he struggled to regain his breath. When he had gathered enough energy to approach the building, Yukimura looked up, seeking out Sanada's window.

He found the window, hard to see because it was all the way up on the fifth floor. The window was dark. Either no one was home or Sanada and his roommate were fast asleep. Yukimura bit his lip, wondering if he should ring the bell and risk waking them up to see if they were home. Maybe he could ring the doorbell and run away to see if anyone would respond. Yukimura certainly didn't want to have to confront Sanada directly. But what if Sanada really wasn't home…?

"Yukimura?"

Yukimura turned around in a flash, facing the voice that had called out his name. Already he knew who that voice belong to. Sanada stepped out of the darkness, carrying a small bag and wearing a casual shirt and jeans. Yukimura's heart constricted painfully but the relief was so great that he sighed loudly.

The moment of surprise passed and a surging anger took place inside the bluenette.

"Where were you?!" Yukimura demanded. "You didn't show up and I thought you had been kidnapped!"

"Ah, it was my mother's birthday. My parents, ah, they live out of the city and I just got back now," said Sanada. He was still staring as if he couldn't believe that Yukimura was really there. "Um, why are you here?"

Fuck. Now he'd done it. Yukimura mentally slapped himself for having jumped to the worst conclusion. Now he was in a real mess. He quickly racked his brain for excuses about why he was at Sanada's apartment in the middle of the night but no good ones came up in his mind.

"I-I left something at your place the last time I was there," said Yukimura.

There was a pause. "No you didn't," said Sanada with a slight frown.

"How can you be sure?" said Yukimura, forcefully sticking with his lie.

"I would have noticed. What did you forget?"

"I-It was…" Yukimura paused for a second too long.

"And even if you did leave something here, why come get it now? It's the middle of the night," said Sanada, crossing his arms and slowly realizing that Yukimura was giving him a very obvious lie.

Yukimura averted his gaze, staring determinedly at the floor. "I... It was..."

"Did you come to see me, Yukimura?" asked Sanada in a low whisper.

"D-Don't be stupid!" snarled Yukimura. He was glad it was night so that his reddening cheeks could easily go unnoticed. "I'm leaving," he announced and made to leave before Sanada could question him any further.

"I'll come see you tomorrow, Yukimura!" Sanada called out before Yukimura had gone too far.

Yukimura didn't reply. He hung his head forward and dragged his feet away, telling himself not to look back. The matter had been resolved but Yukimura felt far from at ease. Now he had a long trip to make to get back home. A really long trip in the dark and cold night in which Yukimura would be able to maul over what had just happened while berating himself for his lousy decision. Really, he couldn't have simply left the matter alone and gone home? Why had he let his worries take over? Yukimura would be asleep in his own bed by now had he not meddled. Of course Sanada would be busy some nights! Yukimura was a fool to think Sanada would devote his every night to him.

But even if Yukimura knew it had been a bad idea, he felt relief for he knew he would not have been able to sleep well had he not gone to see Sanada with his own eyes.

**~o~o~o~**

**Also, MERRY (late) CHRISTMAS/HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO YOU ALL! :D **

**I actually spent my Christmas at a casino... so much for holiday spirit. D; I hope you all have fun holidays with your family and friends while not losing any money! :P**


	13. Chapter 13

**Title: The Imperial Palace Chapter 13**

**Setting: Strip Club AU.**

**Rating: THE SEXY ONE.**

**Reason: Because tennis outfits are that sexy.**

**Pairing: Alpha Pa- Just kidding, it's **_**Royal Pair**_**. **

**Warnings: Uncreative content, possible OOC-ness, ACTUAL TENNIS, they bicker too much, I still can't write royal pair, but I don't care, etc.**

**Disclaimer: PRINCE OF TENNIS ISN'T MINE.**

**~o~o~o~**

* * *

><p>Atobe had arrived back at his condo late and had slept a meagre two hours when his phone rang. It jolted him awake, causing him to start uncharacteristically swearing under his breath. He didn't even have the willpower or strength to pick up the phone, deciding instead that it was sleep-time and that whoever was calling him would have to leave a message.<p>

At least that had been the plan until whoever was calling decided to call back three more times in a row.

Growling, Atobe reached for his nightstand. He prodded around until his fingers clutched the phone. He brought the irritating device back to his ear. "_What_?" he snapped at whoever was on the other line.

"I'm waiting for you outside. Are you ready to go?"

Atobe rubbed his eyes. "What?" he repeated.

"Our date, Monkey King."

There was no mistaking that amused, cocky tone. It was the last thing Atobe wanted to hear this early in the morning.

"Call back in ten hours," Atobe said and rolled over to go back to sleep. He barely had ten seconds of peace before the phone blared out again. Atobe briefly considered suffocating himself under his pillow but ended up answering again.

"Aren't you a bit too early for our date?" snapped Atobe.

"I said Saturday at five. I'm perfectly on time," said Echizen.

A quick look at the clock told Atobe that it really was five o'clock. In the morning.

He sat up, groggy and angry. "It's the crack of dawn. I had assumed you meant five in the evening like any sane person would."

"Well now that you know, do come down so we can be on our way. I made reservations and we'll be late if you don't hurry," said Echizen.

"You're crazy if you think I'm coming with you at this ungodly hour!"

"Do you want me to come get you? You're on the top floor, right?"

Damn him. Atobe gritted his teeth in frustration. Even if he shut his phone off, he was ready to bet that Echizen would come upstairs and knock on his door until Atobe agreed to come along. Atobe rose from his bed and pulled the curtains away from his window. The sun wasn't even out yet. He looked down, seeing near empty dark streets. The only light was coming from a car parked in front of his building with a small figure leaning casually against it. Although Atobe could not see the person clearly, he was willing to bet that it was Echizen.

"Give me a minute," said Atobe.

"Don't keep me waiting for too long," responded Echizen and hung up.

Even after he had showered and put on his best shirt and dressy shoes, Atobe looked very tired. He glared at his reflection in the mirror, seeing the dark circles under his eyes and the pale sunken look in his cheeks. There wasn't much he could do about it. Really, this was Echizen's loss as the tennis player would be unable to gaze upon Atobe's usual perfection because of an early morning date. Atobe grabbed his jacket and left.

The moment he exited his building, he was met with camera flashes.

Great. Now he was going to look less than perfect in whatever magazines these damn photographers worked for. Atobe blinked against the flashes, shielding his eyes from the light. These were some dedicated photographers to be waking up this early to get the latest dirt on Echizen's life. Granted, tennis season was just around the corner and soon Echizen would be the bigshot once again, so long as he won the championships of course.

The car waiting for him was an ordinary black model, probably meant to drive through the streets unnoticed. Echizen now sat in the driver's seat, waving at him with an amused expression.

Another flash went off, making Atobe see spots. He was very not amused.

Atobe entered the car and Echizen started driving before Atobe had even completely shut the door. Sighing, Atobe relaxed back into his seat. "You're in a hurry," he observed.

Echizen didn't take his eyes off the road. He drove quite fast so it was a good thing there was hardly anyone on the road at this hour. "I'm on a tight schedule," said the tennis player, zooming past another car. "And I did say we have reservations."

"Where are we going?" Atobe asked and closed his eyes. If it was far then maybe he could get some sleep on the way.

And then Echizen started blasting the radio. The shrill voices of some pop girl band assaulted his ears.

"It's a surprise," said Echizen and Atobe considered strangling him for a second but then remembered that it might put him in danger considering they were now on the highway. Echizen hummed along to the song and lurched the car forward like he was trying to impress him or get a speeding ticket, or both at the same time. The way Echizen was zigzagging the car around didn't permit Atobe to sleep even if the music wasn't slowly killing his eardrums.

"Slow down will you?" said Atobe, irritated.

"I told you I'm on a tight schedule," said Echizen. "Besides, driving slow makes it easy for those photographers to keep up. That wouldn't be much of a challenge then, would it?"

They drove for only half an hour, but it felt like the longest half hour of Atobe's life. He could only imagine how tired he was going to be that night, trying not to fall asleep at his club. Hopefully he would be able to sneek back in his office and take a nap. When the car finally pulled up in a large parking lot, Atobe blinked rapidly in the dark to see where they were.

The look Atobe gave Echizen was the definition of _You've-got-to-be-kidding-me._

"You brought me to a tennis sports center," said Atobe. Really, the tennis world champion bringing him to a tennis court. Either Echizen was an idiot or just that uncreative. If Atobe was in a better mood, he might have laughed.

"I reserved Court B," said Echizen.

"_A tennis court_," Atobe repeated, still in disbelief. "I admit, you've impressed me. Never in a million years would I have thought that a _tennis player_ would bring me to a _tennis court."_

Echizen rolled his eyes at Atobe's sharp sarcasm. "You really aren't a morning person, Monkey king," he said and got out of the car.

After getting out his phone and quickly texting a message to his driver saying where he was, Atobe followed Echizen out and into the large facility. The place was empty save for a man in sweatpants who handed Echizen keys and a large sports bag containing the proper equipment. Surely Echizen wasn't serious about playing, right? Atobe was wearing designer pants and classy shoes and it was far too early for exercise.

There was no way in hell Echizen would make him play.

* * *

><p><strong>~o~o~o~<strong>

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later, wearing borrowed sports pants, running shoes and holding a navy blue Wilson racket, Atobe was forced to conclude that Echizen really was going to make him play.<p>

The sun was finally coming up, casting a golden pink glow on the clay court.

"Why are we playing on clay?" asked Atobe, sounding just a bit whiny.

"Because the Roland Garros is coming up soon," replied Echizen.

"Then shouldn't you be playing tennis with another pro, or with your coach?"

"Monkey King, go stand on the serving line. I'll let you serve first."

Echizen threw the ball at him. Atobe caught it easily, still not happy with this development. His shoes were squeaky and smelled bad. If Echizen had told him where they were going beforehand, then Atobe could have brought his own equipment. It wasn't like he was a stranger to tennis. He had once played it like a religion, back in high school. Everyone used to look up to him back then, the mighty captain of the boys tennis team. He still played once in a while with old friends when he had the time, but not nearly as much as he would like.

Still, he wasn't some simple novice ready to be utterly humiliated by that cheeky brat. He wasn't a pro either, but he had some tricks up his sleeve.

"Do you need me to show you how to serve?" asked Echizen, smirking from across the court. The smaller man was crouched in stance, racket in his right hand amd looking every bit like the pro he was.

Atobe's lips twitched in response, his old tennis flare coming up. Now that they were doing this, Atobe wasn't ready to go down without a fight.

"I think I got it," said Atobe and threw the ball in the air.

He hit a sharp overhand serve. Echizen caught it, hitting it back. It was a short rally, ended when Echizen shot a curved ball in the far corner out of Atobe's reach. Looks like Echizen was playing full force, thought Atobe.

Atobe retrieved the ball. He served. The next point went to Echizen too.

"Maybe I should go easy on you," said Echizen, taunting.

Atobe didn't respond. This was part of the plan. He had little chance of victory, but he could at least make Echizen work for it. He was going to start slow, to get the feel of the court and to get familiar with Echizen's play style. And when Echizen let his guard down, he would strike hard and fast.

The first game went to Echizen easily enough. Echizen was noticeably slower in the second round. He still got every point, but he wasn't taking Atobe as seriously anymore, not hitting the ball as fast as he could. When the third game arrived, Atobe was ready. Echizen's guard was down from winning the first two games without difficulty. Now was the time to strike!

"Tannhauser Serve!" Atobe shouted his best move and strained his arm forward, fast as lightning.

The stunned look on Echizen's face was worth it all. The ball shot to the other side of the court and instead of bouncing back up, it rolled off at a frightening speed. Echizen was powerless to stop it, looking like he couldn't believe that he had lost a point.

"Be awed by my prowess." Atobe gleamed, sparkling in the morning light.

"That's no amateur move," noted Echizen.

"I never said I was a newbie," Atobe said and served again.

His serve remained unbroken for another two points. On the third time, Echizen managed to return it, but Atobe had run on the offensive and backhanded the ball to the opposite corner, earning Atobe his first game.

"Two-to-one," said Atobe. "The first of many."

"Don't get too cocky, Monkey King," said Echizen. "It's my serve now."

Echizen was back to full power and maximum strength. Atobe too played at his best, managing several spectacular returns, but the gap between them was more obvious than ever now. Still, Atobe didn't go down without a fight. His old spark returned to him full force as he sprinted to hit the ball again and again, harder and harder each time, never once pausing to rest. He won his second game as Echizen won his fifth and Atobe felt like he was a cascade of sweat and burning muscles. Echizen didn't appear as exhausted, but he was breathing hard and Atobe kept him on guard. Now he could see why Echizen was a pro.

The game ended fast. With Atobe not being as fit as he used to be back in high school, he found his arms and legs growing tired and heavy until it was a chore to hit the ball back. That was when Echizen finished it with a spectacular drive, so fast that Atobe barely saw it.

Atobe remained standing, panting heavily, but not willing to sink down on the floor no matter how much he felt like collapsing. His empty stomach was growling, his throat parched for water. Atobe saw Echizen approach and realized that the tennis player had switched to his left hand during the game.

"Good game," said Echizen. He extended out his hand and their sweaty palms met in a handshake. "I assume you aren't up for a second match?"

Atobe coughed, his lungs burning and leaving him breathless. "I'll pass."

Echizen chuckled. "You were better than I expected. You play often?"

"Ah, I was the high school captain and played a bit back in college."

"That explains it." Echizen looked at his watch and suddenly gasped. "Oh no. The match took far longer than I thought. Looks like I will be late after all."

"Hm? Late for what?" asked Atobe. He did remember Echizen saying he was on a tight schedule earlier.

"My flight to Paris," said Echizen like it was no big deal. Atobe blinked at him, thinking that Echizen was not very smart at all to be missing his flight over a little tennis match.

"We could have rescheduled the date if you already had something planned, you know," said Atobe. It wasn't like he had even wanted to come today. "If you miss your flight, getting another one last minute isn't a pleasant thing to do."

Echizen shrugged. "I couldn't reschedule. I was busy training and I'll be out of the country for several weeks," he said. "Still, I'm just about certain to miss my flight now... Hopefully they won't disqualify me."

Disqualify? Atobe stood in silence, thoughtful for a good ten seconds before it hit him like a brick. He pulled out his phone, checking the date and gaping when his suspicion turned out true.

The French Open started tonight.

And Echizen was standing there idly like he wasn't supposed to be playing in one of the biggest tennis tournaments in the world later that day.

"You idiot! When does your flight leave?" Atobe cried out.

"In a little over an hour," replied Echizen, completely nonchalant.

There was no time. They would have to drive super fast if they wanted to get there on time, and the luggage and parking the car…

Atobe looked out and saw Echizen's car. Next to it was a long black limousine, the one Atobe had called earlier before the match. His driver was standing next to it, waiting for him.

"Is your luggage in your car?" asked Atobe.

"Yeah."

"Good. Get it in my limo and hurry. I'll drop you off at the airport."

Echizen didn't ask questions and just did as Atobe said. Atobe ran to his driver and explained the situation quickly, emphasizing that they were going to have to drive extremely fast if Echizen was going to make his flight or else the French Open was going to be really upset that one of their star players was missing in action.

That idiot, why would he even be on a date when he was supposed to be across the globe!

Once the luggage and tennis equipement was in the trunk and Echizen and Atobe in their seats, the limo flew out of the parking lot, faster than Atobe would have thought possible. The car veered to the side sharply, zipzagging through the streets at a scary speed.

Atobe lowered the dark glass separating the driver from the passengers. "Whatever you do, don't stop the car," he told his driver.

"Of course not, sir," the driver answered.

"You might hear strange noises. You are only to interrupt if we arrive at the airport," explained Atobe.

"Y-Yes sir," said the driver, visibly flushing. Atobe let the separator fall back in place, leaving him alone with Echizen once again.

Echizen was busying himself with looking through the many hidden compartments in the limo, finding snacks and a scary amount of wine bottles and then pressing an assortment of buttons multiple times, turning on various lights, windows and the radio.

"Stop that," snapped Atobe when Echizen turned the radio off for the seventh time. He approached closer, sliding to the same seat, his eyes roaming over the smaller's body. "It's a shame our date ended so early. I suppose we could skip to the best part and-"

A tune went off. Atobe thought Echizen had turned the radio on again but the sound was coming from Echizen's pocket. Echizen dug through his tennis shorts and pulled out his phone.

"Yeah?" he said, flipping his phone open. Echizen jolted suddenly, holding his phone out at arms length as whoever was on the other line screamed and shrieked. Atobe caught the words "late", "irresponsible" and "negligent" among a series of more colourful abuses.

"I know, sensei. I'm on my way," said Echizen once he had the courage to bring the phone back to his ear. "I was busy helping a pregnant lady to the hospital. _...I know_. I'll be there soon." He hung up the mobile, sighing as he pushed it back in his pocket. "Sorry about that. My coach overreacts at times."

Atobe didn't even want to know how the coach would react if Echizen actually missed his plane.

"You seem to love giving everyone a hard time, don't you brat?" said Atobe. "Me included."

Echizen smirked, turning towards Atobe. "Is this about the photographers following you around again?" he asked "You brought that upon yourself. You should've been more cautious of who you take as partners." Echizen's leg slid around Atobe's waist and he pulled himself up on the man's lap, leaning slightly forward as to not hit his head on the ceiling of the car. "Was taking me that time worth the hassle?"

Atobe's hands slid up along the tennis player's hips, moving up to skim along the inside of his shirt. The warm skin was still sticky with sweat from their match. Echizen's breath hitched.

"Still sensitive, I see," commented Atobe. "I do feel like you owe me for giving you a last minute lift."

"Do you now?" Echizen leaned closer. "What can I do to thank you, I wonder?"

"I can think of a few things," whispered Atobe, licking his lips; a slight motion to provoke Echizen into making the first move. "Perhaps if you make it up to me, then it will have all been worth it."

"Again, it is your fault the photographers are stalking you," said Echizen. "I didn't force you into having sex with me last time. You chose that of your own accord."

"My fault? Who was the one provoking me and practically begging for it?" asked Atobe, more calm and self-confident than he had any right to be with a definite hardness growing under the weight of Echizen's body. "Although I will admit you make some marvellous faces with a good cock up your ass."

"And I do admit you made some nice noises last time too. Perhaps you've finally found your calling as a professional man-whore," said Echizen.

"I take it to mean you were quite impressed with my prowess."

"Impressed might be an exaggeration. Maybe satisfied would be the more proper term," said Echizen.

It was a stalemate. Both of them mere inches apart, hot and eager, yet neither willing to be the one to give in first. Atobe's hands circled along Echizen's lower back and Echizen pushed slightly down with his hips, a movement that caused Atobe to grind his teeth when his crotch fell victim to the motion. Atobe breathed in sharply when Echizen repeated the action.

"You look like you want to say something, Monkey King," said Echizen innocently. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine," gritted out Atobe through clenched teeth. He got his revenge when he let his hands roam down and squeeze the tennis player's tight ass. Echizen showed no reaction until Atobe slid a finger lower, trailing down his crack and pushing right where he knew his hole was through the material of the shorts. The noise Echizen made was barely audible, but it was enough.

"Is this where you want it?" asked Atobe, his confidence sharply shifting back up, his smirk boastful. He pressed again, circling his fingers along that sensitive area.

"H-_aah_!" Echizen's gasp was like the sound of victory for Atobe. Echizen's head craned lower, resting along Atobe's shoulder as Atobe continued his ministrations. Atobe could smell the sweat in his dark hair and salt of his skin.

"Nghh... don't t-tease m-me, _Monkey King_," said Echizen even though he sounded a mere hairbreadth away from begging.

"Perhaps I will take you, little brat. God knows you want it badly enough," said Atobe. "Would you like me to take you like this, with you bouncing on my lap? Or maybe you wish to be under me again since you enjoyed it so very much last time." His voice dropped to a low, dangerous growl. "You'll be so sore and senseless once I'm through with you. I'll make it so good you'll feel it burning inside you during your plane ride. You'll think of me during your tennis practices and you'll remember the pleasure I give you during every match you play for the rest of the tournament."

At that last word Atobe pressed his mouth to Echizen's jaw, his teeth moving up and finding an earlobe to suck on. Echizen's legs splayed open on either side of Atobe. "That's what you want, isn't it?" He whispered into the younger's ear, feeling Echizen shiver in response. The movement caused Atobe to buck up, pressing both their clothed erections together. They shared a groan and suddenly both their self-controls snapped. Atobe went to capture those succulent-looking lips for the most breathtaking ki—

The limousine stopped so quickly that Echizen would have fallen had Atobe not been groping him so personally. There was a knock from the driver's window.

"Sir, we've arrived, I'll get the luggage," said the driver and Atobe was a second away from telling him to keep driving, plane to Paris be damned. Either they had spent too long bickering or his driver was just that fast.

The kiss Echizen pressed to Atobe's lips ended up being fast and unsatisfying. Echizen too hesitated, not looking too eager to leave despite the fact that he should be racing to catch his plane at the moment.

"Well… thank you for the ride," Echizen said finally. He slid off Atobe just as the driver opened the door to let the tennis player out. "I'll see you in a while I suppose."

"I still expect you to make it up to me," said Atobe.

Echizen smirked that cocky, infuriating grin. "Seeing as I now have to sit in a plane for ten hours in sweaty clothes and a hard-on, I think we're equal," he said and closed the door.

Atobe pushed his hair back, sighing. What a waste of a day.

Still, as Atobe looked through the window at Echizen's retreating ass, he found himself staring far more than he should. Those shorts certainly did justice to Echizen's behind, that much was certain. When they had been playing too, those shorts and shirt had often flown up to reveal a delicious amount of skin.

The inspiration hit Atobe like a hammer to the head. He pulled out his phone in a flash, speed-dialing the designer in charge of all the outfits his employees wore at his fine establishment.

"Good morning, Atobe-kun," answered Mizuki, sounding grouchier than usual. "Isn't this a tad early to make a call?"

"I have a new request," said Atobe, not even bothering to apologize. "For the next set of uniforms, I was thinking something along the lines of athletics. What do you think of tennis outfits?"

It had been a whole five days since Atobe had last changed the outfits back at the Imperial Palace. They usually changed every week anyways; they would just be changing earlier than usual this time. Atobe had been feeling less than inspired lately, but now he felt like this was the greatest idea he's had in a long time.

"Hm?" Atobe could practically hear Mizuki perking up from the prompt, his imagination swirling into action. "Yes… tennis. Sweaty boys, tiny shorts, oh yes. Would you prefer with rackets?" asked the designer.

"Yes."

"Mm, of course, your boys are creative. Even with a tennis racket, they could—"

"Just make it work, Mizuki," said Atobe. "I want the outfits by tomorrow."

"Consider it done. Ciao, darling."

A wave of exhaustion came over Atobe after the call ended. The little amount of sleep he had combined with the tennis match had exhausted him. He ordered the driver to bring him back home. He must've been more tired than he thought as he fell asleep barely five minutes later.

**~o~o~o~**


	14. Chapter 14

**Title: The Imperial Palace Chapter 14.**

**Setting: Strip Club AU.**

**Rating: The line between T and M.**

**Reason: It's Yukimura's Super Birthday Blowout Update! :D **

**Pairing: NONE BECAUSE EVERYTHING IS BROKEN AND AWFUL. **

**Warnings: Uncreative content, possible OOC-ness, angstangstangst, more angst, Yukimura can you not, Fuji meddles everywhere, etc.**

**Disclaimer: Tenipuri is not Knis's. Because I said so.**

**~o~o~o~**

* * *

><p>Yukimura woke up early yet again, groaning when he saw the time on his clock.<p>

This was very unlike him. He was used to falling asleep immediately after coming home from work and then sleeping until noon at the very least. Now, he was always tossing and turning and finding it impossible to fall asleep easily. His mind kept on circling him with thoughts, pushing him back to reality. He was very tired but sleep just kept avoiding him.

Yukimura lay in bed for a long time even after he had woken up, staring blankly at his ceiling as the sun rose, illuminating his apartment with light.

Predictably, his thoughts once again fell upon a certain individual. Sanada had been showing up regularly at the Imperial Palace again. Every night before leaving, Sanada would come up to Yukimura to tell him that he would be coming again the next day, almost as if to reassure the bluenette. Sanada always spoke with that same loving, infuriating smile that Yukimura loved to hate.

Yukimura shoved his arm over his eyes, groaning exasperatingly. He'd thought of many solutions to the Sanada Problem, everything from banning Sanada from the club to getting a new guy. At least that would show Sanada that he'd moved on… Yet, Yukimura couldn't bring himself to do any of those things. The thought of seeing Sanada's heartbroken face once again made Yukimura's chest ache terribly.

Damn it, that man just didn't give up.

Realizing that he wouldn't be falling back asleep anytime soon, Yukimura rose from his bed and decided to start his day taking a shower instead of lying in bed thinking about the Sanada Problem.

Yet, even as he was standing under the warm spray of the shower, his brain seemed to be fully against him. The raven-haired man was constantly on Yukimura's mind and he could do nothing to control it. He would remember it all; everything from their first meeting to their first date, up to that last night together. It made him feel both warm and numb at the same time. His hands glided down his wet skin, almost in an unconscious gesture, down to the collection of dark curls between his legs. He fitted his fingers around his member and closed his eyes, letting the slow careful strokes draw him out. It had been a while - since that night with Sanada, he realized - that he'd sought release. He hadn't even done it alone in a long time; maybe that was why he was nearly his limit so quickly. It wasn't too long before he cried out what sounded like a guttural cry of Sanada's name as he let go of the coiling tension.

The water washed away his mess but Yukimura felt disgust. He was disgusted at himself for still harbouring such desires for the man he was supposed to want gone. It had never been this hard before. He had felt sad in the past when he had broken it off with previous lovers, but his sadness would hardly last more than a few days at most before he no longer thought of them. That was nothing like the deep lingering desire he was feeling now. No matter how much he told himself to let it go, move on, stop thinking about him, you'll just end up with a broken heart, he'll grow sick of you, and you'll end up all alone again, Yukimura just couldn't do it.

He washed himself in a hurry, deciding right then and there that he would occupy every minute of the day with various chores and activities, everything from painting on his new canvas to scrubbing the kitchen counters until they shined just so that he wouldn't have to deal with his inner conflict regarding the problem that was Sanada.

Yukimura did exactly that for the rest of the day. He immersed himself in a variety of tasks, anything that would keep him occupied. Yet although he was busy, he couldn't hide the fact that he was looking forward to work tonight. As much as Yukimura didn't want to admit it, he was always relieved when Sanada diligently appeared at the club every night. Sanada would always enter and take his usual seat at the usual table in the corner. Yukimura would often feel annoyed and call Sanada a fool for continuing to chase after a lost cause, but yet Yukimura would always miss Sanada once he was gone.

The rest of the day was long and boring, to the point where Yukimura began to wonder if evening would ever come. Yukimura ended up leaving for work half an hour early and was fully dressed and ready to go by the time all the other dancers showed up in the dressing rooms. After a long day, the night started and the Imperial Palace finally, _finally,_ opened its doors.

Fuji took to the stage the minute the club opened. It was an effective method Atobe insisted on doing in order to get the attention of the first few clients of the night. It worked magnificently as most clients stayed to watch one, two and even three dances, all the while buying drinks. Fuji really was a genius at his job, always effectively catching everyone's attention with his provocative dance numbers. Most clients returned only for Fuji, and really, who could blame them?

Yukimura leaned back to watch the show as well. Customers were very few this early in the night and it granted Yukimura the only moment of relaxation he had all day. Fuji...

Fuji had been a problem as well, but now Yukimura regretted having been so hard on the smaller dancer. Fuji had only recently stopped trying to convince him to get back together with Sanada, but that was only because they had stopped talking altogether. As much as Yukimura was glad that Fuji stopped meddling in his private affairs, he also missed giggling and snickering with Fuji as they worked. Working was not the same without Fuji around to talk with.

All thoughts of Fuji were suddenly thrown out the window when _he _entered the club. Yukimura met Sanada's eyes for a brief second but it was enough for Sanada to nod and smile in greeting. Yukimura looked away, pretending to have not seen Sanada even as the wave of relief washed over him. He could practically feel Sanada's stare looking over his whole body. Today all the dancers were wearing new ensembles. Logically, the clothes were tennis outfits, but everything was shorter to the point of showing off midriff and more than a lot of leg. Most of the dancers thought the new clothes had something to do with the very gossiped-about story that Atobe was currently dating the tennis world champion. Of course, no one actually dared say that out loud, least of all around their boss.

Even when turned around, Yukimura could feel the usual prickling sensation that came with Sanada watching over him from behind. Yukimura supposed he should be flattered that Sanada was staring at him when Fuji was somehow displaying an impressive mixture of acrobatics and sexy all at the same time on stage. Yukimura looked around for a distraction and found it in the form of a customer; a man, late-twenties, eyeing him suggestively and standing close to the bar. Yukimura smiled sweetly and went.

This man Yukimura ended up dancing with was obviously desperate for contact as he groped Yukimura painfully hard and humped against him like he was starved for touch. Yukimura moved in his usual sensual fashion against the man's hard rhythm and let his eyes wander. He saw Atobe, chatting with Oshitari as usual. The other dancers, Shiraishi, Niou, Shishido, Zaizen, Mukahi, and of course Fuji, were all equally occupied with groups or individual clients. What caught his eye was actually what was behind the bar counter. Tezuka was there as usual, working hard and fast, but this time he was talking quite a bit to a young man who stood next to him behind the counter. The young man wore the same uniform as Tezuka and was also making drinks as Tezuka occasionally whispered to him, apparently advising him on how to make a certain drink properly. The new guy was fast and appeared to have bartended before, but he was nowhere near Tezuka's level.

That's right... Yukimura did hear that Tezuka would be departing soon. Yukimura didn't know him well but he still felt like he was going to miss Tezuka. Yukimura still remembered the fun he and Fuji had had back when Fuji used to flirt with Tezuka regularly. Yukimura wondered how Fuji felt about the fact that Tezuka was leaving. He hadn't actually asked Fuji about it since they were no longer speaking, but Yukimura assumed Fuji wasn't too happy about it.

The song was ending and Yukimura moved to dislodge himself from the customer's vice grip the moment the final note ended. The customer was panting and looked like he wanted more. "How about another dance?" he asked, licking his lips and staring at Yukimura like he was a delicious piece of meat.

Yukimura smiled amiably. "Only if you can pay for it," he replied. Apparently the customer couldn't afford it because he paid for the one dance and left while grumbling. Yukimura went on to the next client unfazed.

It was the usual pattern for the rest of the busy Friday night; Yukimura danced and Sanada sat back and stared. The only difference this time was that Sanada was staying for much longer than usual. It was strange because Sanada usually left at peak hour, anywhere between midnight to one. Unless… perhaps Sanada wanted to tell him something after work? Yukimura gulped, suddenly not sure if he should be nervous or not for the end of his shift. Surely Sanada wouldn't stick around just to ask for a dance again… right?

He was tired. Yukimura was tired of all this. He was tired of not sleeping, tired of feeling like a broken thing and tired of constantly having to distract himself just so he wouldn't be stuck thinking about Sanada all day. It was conflicting. He felt anxious when Sanada wasn't there, yet he felt even worse when Sanada was present. The night dragged on and Yukimura became increasingly anxious because Sanada was still there and didn't appear ready to leave anytime soon. Sanada's gaze prickled the back of Yukimura's neck, more and more as the time left until closing time dwindled from two hours, to one hour and then to half an hour.

There were only twenty minutes left until closing time when Yukimura finally took a deep breath and decided to confront Sanada.

"We're closing soon, Sanada," Yukimura said, standing a few steps away from Sanada's table. "You should go."

"I know," said Sanada. "But I brought something and I want to give it to you before I go."

Yukimura watched as Sanada reached under the table for a big wrapped package that he hadn't noticed before.

"Sanada…" Yukimura said warningly.

"You don't have to keep it if you don't want it," said Sanada, delicately setting the present upright on the table. "But I know you'll like it. Be careful not to tilt it though; it's fragile."

Suspicion and curiosity nagged at Yukimura as he looked doubtedly at Sanada. He hesitated for a moment but his curiosity soon got the best of him. There was no harm in at least opening the gift, right? And Sanada did say he didn't have to keep it...

He reached for it, feeling that the package was nothing but air under the wrapping paper except around the bottom. Yukimura already had a good idea of what it was, as the shape was indication enough.

"Flowers," said Yukimura confidently. He felt the outline of the flowerpot before completely ripping the paper off. His breath caught.

"Do you like it?" said Sanada.

_Damn him to hell,_ thought Yukimura. "You got me orchids," said the bluenette, looking at the beautifully curved stem with the pink and white flowers. God, they were beautiful. Even the flowerpot was gorgeous, light green with swirling patterns. Yukimura looked dazed.

"You said they were your favourite," said Sanada.

"Yeah…" Yukimura did remember having said it offhandedly that final night they had been together, but he hadn't expected Sanada to actually go out and buy it.

_That idiotic, adorable fool,_ thought Yukimura. He knew he shouldn't accept the gift but his hands just wouldn't let go of the flowerpot...

No, _no_ he couldn't take it! It would give Sanada false hope, _it was wrong_, said the rational part of Yukimura's mind.

But, _the orchids_, said the unhelpful side of Yukimura's mind. Really, Yukimura had already known the answer the minute he had unwrapped the gift.

"Thank you Sanada," Yukimura whispered, unable to keep his eyes off the flowers. "They're lovely."

Sanada sighed in relief. "I'm glad you like them," he replied. "When I saw them, I immediately thought of you. Only, you are far more beautiful."

Yukimura's fingers brushed the light pink petals and he knew his cheeks were turning the same colour because of Sanada's stupid cheesy lines. It was suddenly very hard to breathe. He felt his hair being pushed back behind his ear and Sanada standing close.

"You look tired," said Sanada, still close, way too close. "Have you been working too hard? You should take care of yourself."

Yukimura didn't even have the strength to snap back, no strength to pull away or even look at him. What would be the point? Sanada wasn't going to give up no matter what.

"Sleep has been avoiding me lately," Yukimura admitted.

"Ah… that's not good," said Sanada although he was smiling.

"Why are you smiling?" asked Yukimura. He couldn't help but feel like he was being mocked for some reason.

"You're finally talking to me instead of yelling," said Sanada. "And… you're not avoiding me. I'm glad."

Yukimura's fists clenched tight along his sides. "Idiot. No matter what I do, you won't leave me alone."

"That's right. I won't leave you alone. I don't plan on giving up on you." Sanada's warm hands took one of Yukimura's fists. Yukimura could feel his own hand trembling between Sanada's bigger palms. "I don't like seeing you like this, Yukimura," said Sanada. "Please take care of yourself."

The bluenette gritted his teeth. He had to stop himself from shouting back that this was all Sanada's fault in the first place. He pulled his fist back and took the flowerpot.

"Thank you for the flowers," he said, stiff and emotionless. He didn't think he could handle another second of this. His legs carried him across the dance floor and all the way backstage without a glance back. His dressing room was messy but devoid of people. He pushed magazines off the coffee table to make room for his new orchids and then fell back on the clothes-covered couch.

The pain was there again, hitting him harder than before. Yukimura curled up, pressing his head against his knees. It hurt so bad, like his chest had been stabbed with an invisible knife, making him feel like he was about to shatter into a million pieces. He shouldn't be here... he had to go back because the night wasn't over for another dozen minutes and Atobe would notice he had gone... but Yukimura was frozen and unable to move. His throat constricted as an unbearable sadness pressed down on him. Through his blurry vision he could see the orchids, beautiful and silently staring at his pain.

This was why he hated getting involved in deeper, emotional relationships. There was always pain and hurt. Everything had been better before Sanada had come along, back when it was pure physical contact. If Sanada had followed his instructions, there would have been no doubt, no unclear signals or mixed feelings. There would have only been the single common goal of seeking pleasure, no further thinking needed.

But Sanada had stepped out of bounds.

With Sanada there was uncertainty and hesitation. Sanada had showered Yukimura with attention, lavished him with sweet words and gifts, taken him out to restaurants, and stayed up for him and cooked when he asked and stroked his cheek, calling him beautiful and amazing and _god_ as much as Yukimura would beg Sanada to stop, to make the fuzzy feelings of warmth go away, Yukimura missed it. He missed it so much. He was so cold, so alone now, all empty.

Shiraishi and Fuji found Yukimura curled up on the couch just as the first tears slid down his cheeks.

"Yukimura!" Shiraishi and Fuji both cried out at the same time and ran to Yukimura's side. Yukimura wiped his eyes with his hand, sniffling and cursing himself for not being able to hide his sadness better. He hadn't cried over Sanada yet, he hadn't allowed himself to break down that far, but now it was bursting out of him, so strong after having swelled inside him for so long. Crying felt foreign to him. He sat up on the couch and saw himself in the mirror with his red eyes and the tears sliding down his cheeks and it was just so strange to see.

"No, I-I'm okay," Yukimura told his two co-workers, meeting their concerned gazes. Yukimura cracked a sad smile, his voice sounding just as broken. "It's just… getting harder." He didn't have to explain it anymore than that. Both Shiraishi and Fuji understood right away.

Shiraishi rubbed Yukimura's back and somehow it was actually soothing him a bit. Or perhaps it was the sudden burst of tears that had washed some of the pain away.

"It does get better you know," said Shiraishi.

Fuji just gave him a hard look, staring in silence and then without another word he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Fuji must be angry. Yukimura didn't blame him, not after how mad he had gotten at Fuji the other days. Yukimura felt like he was doing everything wrong lately and he just wished he could go back in time to before he had even met Sanada. He wanted everything to go back to how it was before. He just wanted this pain to go away.

"Would you like to go out for some tea?" asked Shiraishi. "It'll make you feel better."

Yukimura shook his head. "No, t-that's okay. Thank you." He hadn't left his house for anything save for work and groceries lately. Perhaps because he had been afraid of breaking down in front of others, just like he was doing now. As much as a real night out would do him good, Yukimura just didn't feel up to it.

With the help of Shiraishi, Yukimura stood up and dried his tears, thanking Shiraishi for the tissues. He changed out the skimpy tennis wear and put back on his comfortable sweatpants and shirt. Although the tears had stopped, he still felt fragile, like anything could cause him to shatter apart at any moment again. Yukimura had never felt so powerless in his life. He purposely avoided looking at the orchids on the table.

He had finished changing just as he heard footsteps outside the door. _Fuji must be back_, thought Yukimura, hearing the door open.

"Fuji!" cried out Shiraishi, as if appalled. Yukimura didn't understand the reason for the outburst until he looked over at the doorway.

"Shiraishi, come with me," said Fuji.

Yukimura felt sick, his heart sinking into his stomach. Behind Fuji stood Sanada, towering much taller than the small dancer. Shiraishi looked back and forth between Yukimura's frozen expression and Fuji's determined one. Yukimura wanted to open his mouth and beg Shiraishi to stay but nothing came out, even when he saw Shiraishi inching towards the door.

Fuji must really hate him to be doing this.

Sanada, looking slightly confused, was ushered in the room. Fuji took Shiraishi and left, leaving Yukimura alone with the last person he wanted to see at the moment. A tense silent filled the room, extending out for what felt like several minutes before Sanada cleared his throat.

"Your friend… said you were feeling down," said Sanada.

Yukimura stared at the floor. "It's fine. I'm better now."

Sanada didn't move. "Are you sure?" he asked, not sounding convinced.

Sanada had probably noticed Yukimura's puffy red eyes even if Yukimura tried hard to hide them. He was crumbling. The cracks were starting to appear, beginning to shatter his carefully constructed composure.

"I'm sure." Yukimura's voice sounded fake even to his own ears. "You can leave. I'll tell Fuji to stop troubling you."

"Yukimura." Oh god no, not that tone. Sanada stepped closer. Yukimura crouched back. "Yukimura," Sanada repeated, "look at me and say you are fine."

Yukimura could see Sanada's feet getting closer, his eyes still determinedly looking down because he knew he would lose it if he looked up. He knew his self-control would shatter to nothing if he did as Sanada said.

"Yukimura, please talk to me," pleaded Sanada, standing right there, standing so close that one more step would bring them together. A single tear slid down Yukimura's cheek and dripped on the floor.

Yukimura wasn't sure if Sanada took the step forward or if it was him who leaned in closer but suddenly his cheek was resting against that warm chest, arms surrounding him in a protective sort of embrace. Yukimura hiccupped, burying his face into Sanada's shirt, smelling that unique musky scent that came from the taller man. Yukimura hadn't realized how much he had missed that smell until now. His tears rained down freely, soaking Sanada's shirt. Yukimura's trembling hands found purchase on the material. This foolish man… Sanada was the source of this pain, he was the reason this was so very painful, and yet Yukimura couldn't move away. Somehow he felt like the pain would double if he pushed Sanada away.

A large hand roamed up and down his back in a slow, comforting gesture. Sanada appeared to be at a loss as to what to do.

This was hard, way too hard for him. "Why must you do this to me?" whispered Yukimura. He got no reply. Sanada simply held him tighter to the point that it soon felt like Sanada was the only thing still keeping him up. Yukimura closed his eyes, feeling utterly exhausted. His head was pounding painfully.

As he stood there, supported by the person he wasn't supposed to want here, all Yukimura could think was of how weak and pathetic he was before his body was wracked in a series of choked sobs.

* * *

><p><strong>~o~o~o~<strong>

* * *

><p>"I think that was a bit out of line, Fuji," said Shiraishi, leaning back against the stage. "Yukimura keeps on telling you not to meddle. He might be angry now."<p>

"Then let him be angry," replied Fuji. "It was necessary." He was positive Yukimura would eventually come to thank him over time.

"If you say so…"

Fuji shivered, holding his glass of water close and drinking to rehydrate himself after a long night of dancing. His skimpy clothes weren't much protection from the chills. The club was ringing with silence and so much colder without the crowd of warmth bodies jumping on the dance floor. The janitors were mopping the floor, picking up loose pieces of trash and washing the tables. Besides them, only Tezuka and another young man were still there, both standing behind the bar. They were talking. Actually, Fuji had seen them talking earlier that night too as the young man helped out behind the counter.

Was Atobe hiring a new bartender? It would make sense. There had been more clients than before lately and although Zaizen helped out at the bar when he could, Tezuka had been putting in a lot of hours. Fuji remembered Tezuka saying just the other day something about how busy he was going to get now with an internship and research papers for school. Tezuka had probably asked for a few less hours.

Shiraishi caught him looking. "Ah, that's the new guy," said Shiraishi. "I haven't heard him talk yet. Maybe he's as shy as Tezuka-san."

"Ah," said Fuji, smiling. "I'm sure he'll do fine. But I don't think he'll be as good as Tezuka."

"Me neither," said Shiraishi laughing. Tezuka was extraordinarily fast and hardly anyone could keep up with him. "It's a shame Tezuka-san is leaving. We'll all miss him I think."

Fuji stared blankly at Shiraishi for a few seconds. "What?" he asked.

"What what?"

"What was that you just said about Tezuka?" Fuji's eyes were wide.

"I'm just… I heard he was leaving in a few days," Shiraishi said carefully. "I thought you knew. The new guy is going to be replacing him."

Fuji dropped his glass, shattering it into a million pieces.

* * *

><p><strong>~o~o~o~<strong>


	15. Chapter 15

**Title: The Imperial Palace Chapter 15.**

**Setting: Strip Club AU.**

**Rating: T**

**Reason: Because I love all my beautiful readers and reviewers ;3; *smooches everyone* **

**Pairing: **_**ALPHA PAIR**_** (**_***cue the victory music*)**_

**Warnings: Uncreative content, possible OOC-ness, Yukimura being an idiot, Sanada being an idiot, Yukimura realizing how much of an idiot he really is, etc.**

**Disclaimer: I choose not to own Prince of Tennis. **

**~o~o~o~**

* * *

><p>Yukimura wasn't quite sure how he was going to face Sanada today. It was going to be awkward to say the least. This time he actually meant it when he said he didn't want Sanada here tonight. It was a logical reaction after what had happened the night before.<p>

Yukimura internally cringed when he recalled the breakdown he had yesterday. He had cried, long and hard, until he felt like he could no longer produce tears. It had never happened to him before. He was not the type to break down and _cry_, especially not over some boy. For god's sake, he wasn't some naïve teenager in high school!

The crying had cleansed away a lot of the built up sadness inside him, but just because it had made him feel better didn't mean that it wasn't also embarrassing as hell. Especially since the person he had broken down on was Sanada, the very person he had been crying about. Sanada had been even worse. Sanada had simply stood there and let Yukimura soak his shirt with tears. Sanada hadn't said a word, maybe because he hadn't known what to say at the time. All Sanada had done was occasionally give him a little pat on the back.

That was why Yukimura was taking a very long time to get dressed that night, all the while feverishly praying that Sanada wouldn't show up. Unfortunately, Yukimura still worked in a strip club and there was only so much time he could take to put on two articles of clothing, both of which hardly covered him at all. Yukimura could've sworn the shorts and shirt had gotten even shorter since yesterday.

What was perhaps even worse was the constant worried looks Shiraishi kept on shooting at him.

"I'm fine, Shiraishi," Yukimura finally said when he couldn't take another one of the stares. "Don't look so worried."

"Ah, sorry," said Shiraishi. "I was just wondering… if I did the right thing by leaving you alone with Sanada-san yesterday?"

Even Yukimura didn't know the answer to that.

"It's hard to say…" said Yukimura hesitantly. "But it's not your fault." And even if it was technically Fuji's fault for bringing Sanada to him yesterday, Yukimura didn't feel angry at Fuji either. That might just be because he missed his good friend and the laughs they used to have together.

Shiraishi looked like he was burning to ask exactly what had happened in the dressing room after he had followed Fuji out.

Yukimura decided to sate Shiraishi's curiosity before any uncomfortable questions came his way.

"Nothing happened," said Yukimura honestly. "He just stood there… and I cried." He hated to admit it – it made him feel terribly weak – but Shiraishi was a good friend and would never mock him for it.

"Sanada-san really cares about you."

The bluenette sighed. Oh, that he knew too well. His eyes found the orchids he had left on the dressing room table yesterday. "I know, Shiraishi," said Yukimura. That caring side of Sanada was exactly what had scared him away.

"Do you care for him too?" Shiraishi asked.

Yukimura closed his eyes. "More than I want to."

The door to their dressing room suddenly slammed open. An irritated-looking Mukahi stood there, hand on the door.

"Hey, the club opened half and hour ago and boss is asking if you two are planning on getting fired today," snapped Mukahi. "If not, then I suggest you get your asses over there."

He left just as suddenly as he had appeared. Shiraishi and Yukimura scrambled quickly to catch up to him, just now realizing how late they were after having been caught up in conversation. Yukimura was hardly peeved seeing as how he had been stalling when putting on his clothes earlier. However, now he could feel nothing but nerves in his gut.

Saturday night was no doubt the busiest. Even early in the night, people were storming in and the dance floor was already full. Yukimura separated from Shiraishi, both of them going off in opposite directions. Yukimura avoided eye contact as he made his way through the crowd; luckily no rude clients grabbed him to demand a dance. He got just close enough to see the area with the tables. Yukimura quickly scanned the tables one by one. His heart sank when he reached the last one.

Sanada was there, sitting alone at the table.

Cursing his luck, Yukimura sank back before he could be spotted and made his way to the complete opposite corner. He was being childish and a coward but he absolutely did not want to confront Sanada today, nor did he have the time, seeing as how busy the place was. His mixed emotions was something he wanted to push aside for this one night. It was now his goal to ignore the raven-haired man for the rest of his shift.

His plan more or less succeeded. Yukimura ended up being so busy that he barely had the time to keep an eye out for Sanada, much less think about him. There were so many people that he couldn't even see Sanada's table through the thick crowd. Sanada would have a hard time finding Yukimura even if he decided to go looking for the bluenette.

Yukimura hardly had a minute's break between clients before he was shoved over to another, asked for a dance again and again. He ended up sandwiched between two men more than once, asked to take his shirt off by a group of giggling women and nearly kissed by a drunk man. The fast beat of the music was the only thing in Yukimura's mind. This was what he wanted: to work and dance and forget his worries, to do his job well and feel his pockets filling with tips, to just laugh with groups of people he didn't even know and not have to think further than that.

But then it ended, all too soon for Yukimura's liking. He was still drunk off the music and atmosphere when the club began to empty out. The time had flown by and Yukimura could hardly believe it was already closing time. He was still exhilarated, but the music's volume was dying down. Soon the club was silent, all save for the sounds of people scrambling out and the ringing in his ears.

"Man, I made a fortune today!" Yukimura heard Shishido tell Mukahi. All the strippers were bare-chested with a light sheen of sweat, appearing exhausted but happy with tonight's turnout. Atobe too retreated back to his upstairs office with a satisfied look in his eyes and no complaints on his lips.

Yukimura was breathing heavily, still a little dazed that it was over so fast. He felt more energized than he had in a long time. There was no other word for it: tonight had been fun.

But when Shiraishi approached him, his expression alone set off alarm bells, wiping the smile off Yukimura's face.

"What's wrong Shiraishi?" asked Yukimura. "Didn't you have a good night?"

"No, it's not that," said Shiraishi. He cocked he head to the side, indicating to something behind him. "I think he wants to talk to you, Yukimura."

Yukimura was about to ask who when he saw _him_ and remembered. It all came crashing back on him like an avalanche, filling his entire body with dread.

Sanada was still seated. The very fact that Sanada was still there could only mean that he wanted to tell Yukimura something. This was not going to end up.

For a second Yukimura considered running away and sneaking out the back door to avoid any confrontation, but Yukimura swiftly scratched that plan off. He had been cowardly enough today. No matter how much he didn't want to, he knew dodging interaction was not going to help anything. It was better to get it over with and, no matter how awkward it was going to be, soon things would be back to normal. Really, Sanada wouldn't be the type to make fun of him over his breakdown yesterday... Sanada probably just wanted to know if he was feeling better.

"Okay, I'll go then," said Yukimura, looking a bit pale at the thought.

"Do you want me to go with you?" asked Shiraishi.

"No, that's fine." Yukimura was not going to hold Shiraishi's hand for this. He was a grown man and could handle it himself… probably.

Still, even as Yukimura made his way to Sanada's table, Yukimura was reassured to see Shiraishi standing by the stage, like a guardian waiting to intervene in case Yukimura showed signs of distress.

Sanada saw him approach, but his expression was unreadable. Yukimura wondered what Sanada was thinking and what he would say.

"We're closed, Sanada," said Yukimura, standing along the edge of the table. He said it in the same regular tone he had been using for several weeks now to address Sanada. No hello, no friendly little quips asking how he was. Act normal.

"I know," replied Sanada. His face changed, from hard and unreadable to a rather melancholic expression. He suddenly looked as gloomy as he had the few days after Yukimura had broken things off with him. The thought of it brought a familiar ache to Yukimura's chest.

"Do you need me to show you where the exit is?" said Yukimura.

"No, I just…" Sanada looked hurt, as if what he was trying to say was physically paining him. "I came to say goodbye."

Yukimura paused. "Okay. Good night to you too."

"No, I-I mean…" Sanada swallowed thickly, his eyes focussed on a dirty spot on the table. "I'm not coming back. This is the last time you'll see me."

The words took a while for Yukimura to fully understand. It was as if all the air was being pushed out of Yukimura. He could feel nothing but numb disbelief, his mouth unable to form words.

"I'm sorry for what I've done," continued Sanada. "I-I know I was being stubborn. I was an idiot for continuing to pursue you after you told me not to countless times. I guess I was just in denial… I thought there was still a chance that we could…" He stopped to shake his head. "After yesterday, I realized that this couldn't continue."

_No_, thought Yukimura. It wasn't Sanada who was at fault. If was him who needed to apologize to Sanada. This was all wrong.

"I could continue coming here every night, but I realize that it won't change your mind," said Sanada. Finally his head rose to meet Yukimura's eyes. "Yukimura, I do love you. You may think it's silly but that will not change. But... I don't want you to be in pain because of me. I don't want you to cry anymore because of me."

Sanada stood up, inhaling deeply. "I hope you will start to smile again when I'm gone," he said. "I am very happy that I met you, Yukimura, even if it's not meant to be. So take care of yourself and… I suppose this is goodbye."

Yukimura felt like he should say something as Sanada passed him and headed towards the door. Yukimura stood frozen, staring at Sanada's retreating back. This wasn't right… Sanada was not supposed to give up. Sanada was supposed to tell him he would be back tomorrow all the while reciting some cheesy lines about how Yukimura was as pretty as a flower, and then Yukimura would snap at him but still sigh in relief when Sanada would diligently reappear the next day.

Only now Sanada was leaving and he wasn't coming back. Sanada turned the corner and suddenly he was gone.

Yukimura kept on looking at the corner, waiting for Sanada to come back and say that it was all a joke. But Sanada didn't come back and the longer Yukimura stared, the more uneasy he felt. A deep emptiness settled in his chest.

"Yukimura, what happened?"

It was Shiraishi, probably here to ask why Yukimura was standing there staring at a corner for so long. Yukimura blinked.

"He said he's leaving for good," said Yukimura. Saying it out loud made it all the more real. It wasn't a joke, Yukimura realized. Sanada had left. "He said he's not coming back." His voice was emotionless. How was he even supposed to feel about this?

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Shiraishi asked.

Yes… It was what he thought he had wanted. Finally Sanada was going to leave him alone after all those weeks of wishing he would do just that. But actually… this wasn't how he thought he'd feel when it happened. Maybe it wasn't what he wanted. No… this wasn't what he had imagined. This wasn't what he wanted at all.

Yukimura was shaking his head. "No. It's not…"

Shiraishi showed him a long, relieved smile. "Then what are you waiting for?" he said and gave him a little push forward.

His legs moved like they were on automatic, around the corner and out the door. It was cold outside, or maybe it was just because he was barely wearing anything. He was looking around frantically, left and right, for that broad back and black cap only to panic when he didn't find it. He ran down the sidewalk in the direction of Sanada's apartment all the while ignoring the strange stares and cat calls he was getting from other pedestrians.

No, Sanada couldn't have gone… Yukimura had to see him, had to tell him…

He didn't exactly know what it was he had to tell Sanada; all he knew was that he had to find him. He didn't want it to end like this. He didn't want this to end at all. Sanada, that stupid, adorable, caring idiot… All the crying Yukimura had done yesterday was only supposed to have been embarrassing, it wasn't supposed to have pushed Sanada away. Sanada wasn't supposed to leave that easily!

Yukimura found him, walking up ahead and hunched like he was carrying a heavy weight. Yukimura pushed his legs even faster, shouting "Sanada!" as loud as his burning lungs allowed him.

Sanada swerved around at the sound of his name, turning around just as Yukimura ran straight into him. Such a tackle would have easily knocked a weaker person off their feet but Sanada held steady, catching the bluenette against his chest.

"Y-Yukimura?" Sanada said disbelievingly. "What are you doin-"

Without warning, Yukimura crashed their lips together in a bruising kiss, completely cutting off any words or thoughts either of them had. For that moment, Yukimura completely forgot that he was making a scene, kissing the man he had broken up with in the middle of the street all while being half-naked to boot. He poured every feeling he had into the kiss; gentle as a way of apology and then passionate for his desire to get him to come back and stay. Sanada's lips were just as hot and soft as Yukimura remembered them and he sighed relief into Sanada's mouth, realizing now just how much he had missed this taste.

Sanada appeared plainly baffled, his own mouth frozen in shock at first and then moving hesitantly, confused about what to make of this. His eyes were dazed and searching as Yukimura pulled back, silently questioning him.

Yukimura answered with a small apologetic smile. _Don't go. I'm sorry. Please stay._

He shivered as the cool air made itself known once more. Before either of them could say anything, Sanada was taking off his own jacket, wrapping it around Yukimura. The bluenette was thankful. He hadn't thought about putting his shirt back on and changing into something more appropriate before rushing after Sanada. He had acted so impulsively.

He held the jacket close to him, letting the heat sink into him, breathing in the scent of Sanada that lingered on the piece of clothing. "Thank you," said Yukimura.

Sanada nodded, hints of blush on his cheeks. His eyes never left Yukimura, as if afraid the bluenette would just up and vanish the moment he turned around.

"You should go get changed… before you catch a cold," said Sanada.

"Okay," nodded Yukimura. He extended out his hand. "Come with me?"

Sanada took his hand and Yukimura was certain he had never seen someone so happy.

* * *

><p><strong>~o~o~o~<strong>

* * *

><p>After Yukimura had changed back into his regular clothes, he and Sanada went to a 24 hour coffee lounge. Besides an old man and a college-age student with a laptop, the place was relatively empty and quiet.<p>

They got themselves a table around the back, neither of them saying anything until a bored-looking woman in a grey apron came to take their order.

"A coffee for me," Yukimura told the waitress. He looked over at Sanada. "And you?"

"Ah, nothing for me thanks," said Sanada.

"I insist, Sanada," said Yukimura. "It's my treat today."

Either Sanada did not want to take the risk of angering Yukimura or maybe it was because he was actually thirsty, but Sanada ordered tea a second later. They handed the menus to the lady and once again were left alone in silence.

Yukimura was the one who broke the ice, knowing he'd have to say it sooner or later.

"I owe you an apology, Sanada," said Yukimura. "But even I don't think an apology will be enough, so I understand if you are angry at me."

"You don't owe me any apolo-"

"Yes, I do," interrupted Yukimura. He sighed, looking down at his hands on the table. "I was selfish and mean to you and you did nothing to deserve it. You've been nothing but kind to me and all I did was get angry and leave without explanation." The guilt was there, and the fear too. Even if his fear was irrational, Yukimura was suddenly afraid that Sanada wouldn't forgive him and simply leave him there. The worst was that Yukimura knew he deserved exactly that. "So, I'm sorry for everything and I hope you can forgive me."

Sanada's hand reached out under Yukimura's chin, lifting the dancer's head up. Sanada's eyes were smouldering.

"I can never be angry at you," said Sanada and pressed his hand on top of Yukimura's.

Relief poured through Yukimura, making him feel content just from the sensation of Sanada's hand covering his. It was warm and comfortable, but so alienating and uneasy. This was exactly the type of thing Yukimura was used to running away from.

The coffee and tea came quickly and Yukimura was a little disappointed when Sanada let go of his hand to drink from his steaming cup. Yukimura did the same to his coffee, pouring milk and sugar and then letting the warm, soothing drink relax him. The warmth was very much like what Yukimura had felt earlier when Sanada had wrapped his jacket around him. Yukimura almost wished he hadn't brought his own jacket so that he'd have an excuse to keep Sanada's.

"Did you bring me here just to apologize?" asked Sanada, sounding just a bit hopeful.

Ah, and there it was. The part Yukimura had been afraid to get to.

Yukimura took his time taking a long sip of coffee. "Sanada, I… I do miss you," Yukimura admitted hesitantly, "but I don't usually do this sort of thing... I can't guarantee anything." _I can't guarantee you won't get hurt again._

"It's… I think I understand," said Sanada. "I'm not very experienced either so… you can always tell me if I'm doing something wrong. It's okay to be uncertain. I feel a little lost sometimes too." He cleared his throat, his hands jittering around his cup. "I want to be with you. But at the same time I want you to be happy."

Happiness… that was something Yukimura hadn't felt in a while. Yukimura knew which direction this conversation was taking and as much as he wanted to take that step, to go ahead and let himself be cared for and loved by Sanada, it was still a scary thought. But at the same time, the thought of Sanada leaving felt like a very dim and empty path to take.

"W-What I'm trying to say is…" Sanada paused, scratching the back of his head and appearing just a little shy. "D-Do you think you can give me the chance to make you happy?"

God, that face was so horribly endearing. Yukimura's felt like kissing him again.

"What did you have in mind?" asked Yukimura.

"Anything you are comfortable with," said Sanada, encouraged by Yukimura's lack of rejection. How Sanada could still want Yukimura after seeing the bluenette at his worst was something Yukimura didn't understand. Sanada was so sincere, desperately wanting to get closer, yet also afraid Yukimura would run away if he got too close. It made Yukimura's heart swell.

"Tomorrow's my day off. I'm free for supper?" Yukimura voiced it as a question but the way Sanada instantly lit up showed that it hadn't been necessary.

"I-I'd love to!" exclaimed Sanada a bit too loud. The few patrons in the restaurant turned to stare.

Yukimura couldn't help but laugh. He had been worried over nothing. Sanada wasn't angry and wasn't leaving. Sanada was still the same eager puppy as before. Sanada appeared embarrassed for a second but then Yukimura leaned over the table and kissed him and this time Sanada was happy to kiss him back.

For now, Yukimura was happy to push his worries away and be glad that Sanada was staying.

* * *

><p><strong>~o~o~o~<strong>


	16. Chapter 16

**Title: The Imperial Palace Chapter 16.**

**Setting: Strip Club AU.**

**Rating: M STANDS FOR SEX. **

**Reason why the chapter was late this time: I'm a lazy jerk. But in reality****, my old laptop completely stopped functioning and I lost nearly all my data, including a lot of half-written work and even a few finished chapters. So that's pretty much why I haven't updated in a few months. This chapter was actually supposed to be Perfect Pair, but I unfortunately lost that chapter so now I have to completely re-write it. _Fun_. **

**Pairing: **_**There's da platinum pair and then there's like a bit of da alpha.**_

**Warnings: Uncreative content, possible OOC-ness, Niou has something against pink beverages, Yagyuu's son is adorable okay, but not as adorable as Sanada, etc. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis. **

**~o~o~o~**

* * *

><p>The tennis racket was a child's size, but even so it was far too big for Hiro-chan. The brat needed two hands to hold the racket up and every swing was slow and threatened to make him fall backwards.<p>

Still, Niou had to admire the kid's determination. Even after a few hours into it without having hit a single ball yet, Hiro-chan was still flailing his racket around, running on his tiny little legs and not even crying when he fell and scrapped his knees.

It was cute, Niou admitted to himself, but this was most definitely the last time he would ever agree to babysit a small child. Children had a habit of asking too many questions and running off the minute you took your eyes off them. That, and Hiro-chan was apparently a girl magnet.

"Aww, he's adorable!" cooed a blonde girl in a ponytail.

"It he yours?" asked a pretty brunette. They had both paused in the middle of their own tennis game to smile at Hiro-chan.

Niou sighed, leaning heavily on his tennis racket as Hiro-chan hid behind his legs. Hiro-chan looked suspiciously at the small group of women gawking at him.

"Nah," said Niou. "Just a friend's kid." He also declined the girls' request for a tennis game. He was tired enough from yesterday's busy Saturday night at work and even more exhausted from running after a small child all day.

The girls lingered for a while longer and then left to resume their game. Niou watched as Hiro-chan ran off chasing after a ball again.

Yagyuu owed him big time for this, thought Niou. Tomorrow, Yagyuu had better be naked on the bed with a bowl of chips and a bottle of soda to make up for it.

Yagyuu had a last minute work-related call conference and his wife also had plans and couldn't take Hiro-chan. So Yagyuu had just casually figured that Niou was good enough to babysit. Niou knew he should be flattered that Yagyuu trusted him with his child, but it was way too much of a bother and responsibility for Niou to be happy about it.

The tennis had been decided upon easily since Hiro-chan wouldn't shut up about it. Yagyuu had bought rackets and balls, and the result was here now in the form of Hiro-chan tripping over his own feet again. Niou exhaled loudly, walking over to the fallen brat.

"You okay?" asked Niou, helping the kid stand back up and then dusting him off. Hiro-chan was full of dirt. Yagyuu better not make a hissy fit about it later.

Hiro-chan sniffled but didn't cry. "Tennis is hard," he finally said.

"Yeah, it is," said Niou. "But practice makes perfect, right?"

Hiro-chan looked down thoughtfully for a few seconds. "Can I be good too?"

"Only if you practice a lot, then yeah."

"Even as good as Echizen Ryoma?" Hiro-chan's eyes lit up.

Niou shrugged. "I guess." The odds were slim to none, but Niou hardly felt like destroying a child's dream. The last thing he wanted was for Hiro-chan to actually cry.

"Will daddy come play tennis with me if I'm good?" asked Hiro-chan.

"I'll force him to come along next time," said Niou. "Now, come on, let's go home." Surely Yagyuu was done with his work crap by now. It had been hours and Niou was fairly certain he couldn't handle a minute more of this.

Hiro-chan actually had the gall to pout at him. "B-But I wanna stay…"

"Fine, then stay. As for me, I'm going back to see your dad," said Niou and walked away.

Niou got all the way to the edge of the park when Hiro-chan came running after him, tennis racket swinging wildly in his hand.

Niou held Hiro-chan's hand all the way back because he didn't trust the kid not to go running into strangers or out into the streets. Niou never realized how dangerous the world around him was until now that he had a kid with him. Niou considered it a great accomplishment that they both made it back to Yagyuu's building in one piece.

They made their way up the multiple flights of stairs (Hiro-chan preferred stairs over elevators for some unfathomable reason). When they were halfway up, Niou heard the sound of a people shouting. The voices grew louder as they continued making their way up.

Hiro-chan paused, looking up uncertainly. A woman shrieked loudly. Oh, Niou knew who that voice belonged to, even if he had never actually seen the woman in person.

"I guess your mom's here," said Niou when he heard Yagyuu's aggravating reply. Hiro-chan nodded and continued climbing the stairs, albeit much slower this time.

"It's the one day you get to spend with your son! I can't believe you would pawn him off to someone I don't even know without asking me!" the woman shouted.

"I got a call from work! I hardly had a choice," Yagyuu replied.

"Work! It's always work with you! I might as well have called a babysitter!"

When they reached the fourth floor, Niou saw the two of them at the doorway. Yagyuu's wife looked the same as in the photographs: plain brown hair, fair complexion and dressed in cream colours. Yagyuu saw them first, pausing in the middle of a reply, his eyes softening immediately. His wife did the same, only she quickly looked at Niou as if she was analysing him, taking in everything from his dirty sneakers and baggy sweatpants to his bleached hair and then narrowing her eyes like she didn't like what she saw.

"There you are, honey," she said, leaning down and taking Hiro-chan's hand. Hiro-chan didn't look at her and didn't say a word.

"Did you have fun at the tennis court, Hiro-chan?" Yagyuu asked kindly. Still no answer came their way. Hiro-chan looked at the floor.

Yagyuu's wife leaned down to look at him better. "You're all dirty! Did you get hurt?" she exclaimed, seeing the kid's dirt-stained shorts and scratched knees. Hiro-chan turned away from her, crossing his arms angrily. He looked adorable.

"Yeah, sorry about that. The little bugger runs fast," said Niou. He walked right through the doorway, kicking his shoes off and brushing past Yagyuu. "Hey, what do you have to eat, _Yeah_gyuu? I'm starving."

It must have had something to do with his all-too familiar tone, or maybe she was just as much of a neat freak as Yagyuu and hated the fact that he had haphazardly ditched his shoes, but Niou could very much feel Yagyuu's wife's dislike towards him.

"Excuse me, but shouldn't you show a little more respect towards your employer?" she snapped at him.

Niou was already opening the fridge and grabbing a can of soda. He could practically hear Yagyuu's discomfort from here.

"It's fine," Yagyuu told his spouse.

"Fine?" she cried out. "This is your home and he's trespassing and stealing from your kitchen! Not to mention Hiro-chan could have gotten injured! What kind of babysitter did you hire?"

She was really pissing him off, but more than that, Niou found himself a little irritated at Yagyuu's inability to clearly say what was going on. Niou had long ago figured someone like Yagyuu might not want others to know about their little relationship (whatever their relationship was at this point, Niou was not quite sure himself anymore). Still… Niou found that he did not like it one bit.

His drink was left abandoned on the counter. Niou returned to the doorway, slinging an arm around Yagyuu's neck.

"What, you mean she doesn't know?" said Niou, smirking crookedly.

Yagyuu's eyes went wide and Niou could almost hear Yagyuu shouting _'What on earth are you trying to accomplish?_' in his mind. Ah, Yagyuu was so gonna get mad. Serves him right for beating around the bush like this. Niou wanted an answer just as much as Yagyuu's wife did.

Speaking of the wife, she did not appear too happy. "Know what?" she asked. "Hiroshi, what is this about?"

"Nothing," Yagyuu said abruptly, trying and failing to dislodge Niou. "It's nothing. Look, can we talk some other day? I have a lot of things to do today."

No, this wouldn't do at all. Niou's eyes narrowed into slits.

"So she doesn't know about us?" drawled Niou.

Before Yagyuu's wife could even ask, Niou tilted Yagyuu's head and kissed him fully on the mouth.

He wished he had brought a camera to capture the look on the wife's face. It was absolutely priceless. Yagyuu's expression too was quite good but it only reminded Niou of how much trouble he was about to be in. If Yagyuu was that adamant about pretending there was nothing between them, then Niou thought that perhaps this relationship had reached its limit.

That last thought made him a bit sad. Niou sauntered away, back to the kitchen. He better get some food in his stomach before all hell broke loose. Niou heard Yagyuu shooing his wife and son away.

"We'll talk about this later," Yagyuu said, his voice revealing nothing but strained finality. The door slammed shut a second later. The silence left behind was like the calm before a storm.

The next sound was that of Yagyuu's fist slamming down on the kitchen counter.

"What did you think you were doing back there?" demanded Yagyuu. Niou had seen Yagyuu peeved before, such as whenever Niou left a mess, but never had he seen Yagyuu so completely angry.

Niou swallowed his mouthful of soda and shrugged. "I brought your son back from the park. He's not very good at tennis by the way."

"_Niou_, you know what I mean."

Oh, so it wasn't Niou-kun anymore now. Lovely, he had been meaning to tell Yagyuu to drop the honorific. Niou turned to face Yagyuu.

"What did you expect me to do?" asked Niou. "Did you want me to stand by as I listened to you pretending that I'm nothing more than a babysitter?"

"That would have been better than kissing me in front of my wife!"

Niou snorted. "Last I checked, you were separated and your wife was moving on too. She's a lovely woman by the way; I can _definitely_ see why you married her."

"I don't care," said Yagyuu. "You had no right to do that. I didn't want her or anyone to know—"

Ah, and there it was. Niou gulped down the rest of his soda, crushing the can once he emptied it.

"Sorry," said Niou, pushing his hands into his pockets. "I guess I'm just a stain on your perfect little life." Well, he _had_ wanted to know what Yagyuu thought of him and this relationship. Now that he knew… well, he was going to push those nasty emotions away for now. He had to go to work soon.

"Look, it's not- I mean, try to understand the position you put me in. You're a still a student, and you work as a _stripper_… It's not exactly something I'm eager to shout from rooftops," said Yagyuu.

"I understand perfectly," said Niou. He made his way to the door, scuttling his feet into his worn out sneakers. "I have to go to work. Do you think you can put all my clothes and stuff in a bag for me? You're good at folding things. I'll come get my stuff tomorrow or something."

He didn't know if Yagyuu was too surprised or speechless to reply, but either way Niou didn't want to linger. He just left, trailing his feet down the stairs and thinking about how he would have to get groceries for his own apartment later.

He almost expected to see Yagyuu running after him when he stepped outside. Niou even lingered for a minute longer than necessary, waiting, _hoping_. No one came.

Of course not, Niou thought bitterly and went on his way.

* * *

><p><strong>~o~o~o~<strong>

* * *

><p>Work was absolutely dreadful. Niou was putting in zero effort and it showed in the meagre amount of tips he was getting. Damn it, why did the Imperial Palace have to be so busy all the damn time? It was impossible to go slack off in the back or take a quick nap. His irritation did not mix well with the clients' flirtatious comments or lewd gropings.<p>

Halfway through his shift, he joined Sanada at his table, sighing as he rested his head on the solid wood.

"Shouldn't you be working?" asked Sanada, glowering at him, probably because Niou was now blocking the view to his beloved Yukimura.

Niou ignored him. "Are you gonna drink that?" Niou asked, pointing at the drink Sanada always bought but never actually drank. Sanada shook his head and Niou immediately took it, downing it in one go. It tasted like cherry and rum and was not nearly strong enough for his taste.

"I didn't say you could drink it!" said Sanada. "I thought Yukimura might've wanted it after. I mean, he prefers strawberry, but still…"

"Shut up, he's working and not supposed to be drinking."

"You're not supposed to be drinking on the job either." Man, Sanada was being real annoying today. Niou would have thought that he'd be in a happier mood after getting back with Yukimura. Or maybe it was watching his boyfriend dancing with a dozen other guys that made Sanada cranky.

Still, even Sanada was not so dense as to not notice when something was amiss.

"Is everything all right, Niou?" asked Sanada. For a second he almost looked concerned.

Niou shrugged. "I guess. I mean I spent the day running after a small child on the tennis court and then I broke up with Mr. Stick-up-his-ass. So yeah, I had a pretty productive day." He really wanted another drink right now.

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Sanada, frowning.

"Shit happens."

"I completely understand how you feel," Sanada continued. "It's like when Yukimura broke up with me. I didn't know what to do and felt so lost, but then I didn't give up and-"

Niou slammed his palm down on the table. "No, Sanada, you really _don't_ understand," he said. God, if he had to endure yet another long monologue about _Yukimura, _he was going to lose it. "Not everything is about you and Yukimura."

"I never said it was."

"You should stop before you get too obsessive again or else Yukimura will break things off with you once more."

"I-I'm not obsessive!" shouted Sanada.

Yeah, it was probably about time that he went back to work now before he angered Sanada any more than this. Sanada looked half irritated and half worried about the truth in Niou's words.

Niou figured he might as well attempt to hump his problems away, unfortunately no amount of grinding helped distract him. As the night wore on and he had danced with more people than he could remember (and stolen more than a couple of drinks from the tables he had been entertaining, but no one needed to know that little detail), all he wanted to do was go home and sleep.

_Home. _It was odd calling it home when he hadn't been back to his own apartment in a few weeks now. He hadn't needed to since Yagyuu's place had had everything he needed, which consisted of a bed and good food. He didn't even want to think about the amount of dust and expired food was waiting for him back at his own place.

Niou had barely finished his dance with a customer when he felt another hand grab his arm.

"I'm coming, calm your-"

Niou turned around and found himself facing Mr. Stick-up-his-ass himself.

"We need to talk," said Yagyuu, still all dressed up and stiff and looking even more out of place than Sanada did. And that was saying something.

"I'm working," said Niou. "Remember? It was you who suggested I get a job in the first place."

Yagyuu was clearly not here for any jokes. He pulled out his wallet and handed Niou a 1000 yen bill. "There, will that buy me some time?" demanded Yagyuu.

Niou raised an eyebrow. "You're awfully cheap today. The guy just now gave me double of that. I think I'll go find him again." Yagyuu grabbed him again before he could leave.

"Fine." Yagyuu thrust a 5000 yen bill into his hands and his hands lay claim to Niou's hips. "I assume that's enough?"

Well money was money. And it would be really shitty of him to refuse to listen to what Yagyuu had to say after he came all this way. Niou told himself that was all it was, not at all because he was secretly hoping for an apology.

…But if Yagyuu did apologize, it would save Niou a huge grocery bill and spare him the hassle of moving all his clothes back to his own apartment…

Yagyuu fell into a slow rhythm that did not at all match the fast beat of the song, all the while keeping a respectable distance from Niou. Was he seriously attempting to do balldancing in a strip club? Either way, he wasn't very good at it.

"I think I owe you an apology," began Yagyuu.

Niou snorted.

Yagyuu tried again, "Okay, I _know_ I owe you an apology. What I said was rude and you certainly do deserve better after we've been… _dating_ for a few months."

Niou nodded. "Yup. Three months and twenty-two days. Sounds about right. Well, that is if you count the fact that we've yet to see each other outside of your apartment and this strip club, because then it doesn't sound like we've been _dating _at all."

Apparently his bitter tone was much too obvious because it made Yagyuu pause.

"It's been that long," said Yagyuu hesitantly. "So I thought you would understand my position and know that this isn't something I'm comfortable with telling people about yet."

"It's been that long so I thought you would understand how much your secrecy bugs me," countered Niou. He was surprised at how angry his own voice sounded. He hadn't really given this whole thing much thought, but now he realized that yes, it really did bother him. It bothered him a lot that this was all kept completely secret. "If I embarrass you, you should have said so in the first place." This would be a great time for the song to end now, thought Niou.

Yagyuu laughed lightly. "Niou-kun, of course you embarrass me." He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're a stripper and a slob and sometimes you push all my wrong buttons and pull me out of my comfort zone."

"I try." Niou almost huffed. Great, so Yagyuu had come all this way to explain exactly why they couldn't date? This was a new one. "And you are a snobbish prude. Your point?"

"You're fun," Yagyuu breathed, "and exciting, and everything I never let myself have."

Yagyuu leaned in and for a second looked ready to kiss him. It was so unexpected that Niou only had the time to turn away, presenting his cheek instead.

"Kissing the strippers is off-limits here," said Niou.

"Ah, sorry," murmured Yagyuu.

The song ended and they both stopped moving. Yagyuu's eyes were shinier than usual; it was the closest Niou had gotten to seeing Yagyuu appear genuinely sad. It took him a good dozen seconds before he let his hands fall back to his sides.

"I'll wait outside until your shift is over," said Yagyuu. Clearly there were things he'd rather say and do in private than on the Imperial Palace's dance floor. He left, leaving Niou staring at his retreating back.

A hand squeezing his ass brought Niou back to reality.

"Bug off," Niou said gratingly as he shrugged the stranger's hand off. The customer actually looked offended but Niou didn't stick around to deal with him.

Niou found Sanada's table again, only this time Sanada was not alone. Yukimura sat on the opposite side. Judging by Sanada's frantic hand motions and Yukimura's amused expression, Sanada was attempting to have a discussion about his many worries. Niou only heard a few sentences.

Sanada's voice reached him first, "-if you think I'm getting too obsessive, just say the word and I'll keep my distance and-"

"When have I ever referred to you as obsessive?" Yukimura asked. "But now that you mention it, your constant presence here is rather…"

Sanada paled, trying and failing to remain calm.

Niou knew he should be apologizing for his bluff at this point, but seeing Sanada in such a frenzy only three days after getting back together with Yukimura was much too fun.

Regardless, Niou had his own problems now. He strode over, pressing himself up next to Sanada.

"Hey, nice to see you again, I need to ask you something," said Niou, patting the taller man's shoulder. He then looked lazily over at Yukimura. "Shouldn't you be working?"

"Shouldn't you?" replied Yukimura.

Niou ignored him, turning back to his good friend Sanada, who was now looking even more irritated than before. "Anyways, so here's the deal," said Niou. "Let's say a guy you've kind of been dating insults you right after you broke up with him, but still wants to stay with you because you are 'exciting', what are you supposed to make of that?" He looked down at the table and saw that Sanada had ordered himself another drink. He blinked at the red-pink cocktail.

"Did you just order a _strawberry daiquiri_?" said Niou.

Sanada shrugged. "It doesn't taste too bad," he said and muttered something about it being one of Yukimura's favourite drinks. "Wait, you mean that guy Yagyuu? He's dating you because… you're exciting?"

"Good, I'm not the only one who finds Yagyuu's choice of words weird," Niou said. "Though I definitely think your choice of drinks is weird. I let the appletini pass yesterday, but if you keep on ordering things like strawberry daiquiris, then I'm gonna have to pretend that I don't know you."

"Perhaps your boyfriend couldn't think of any other compliments to give you," Yukimura said sweetly.

Niou glared back. "Thanks for your insightful relationship advice," he said sarcastically. "Seeing as how your relationships are so perfect, I knew I could count on you for help, dearest Yukimura-sama. How many guys have you screwed and left again? Oh wait, it doesn't matter because I don't care to hear the opinion of someone who forced my friend to order a revolting strawberry-flavoured abomination."

Sanada started, "Niou…"

"Who I choose to date and sleep with is none of your business," Yukimura replied. "I can't help it if _you_ have no appealing points."

Niou was about to utter a very creative line of swear words at Yukimura when someone was suddenly pulling at his already tight shirt, choking him. Another hand reached out, also grabbing Yukimura by the scruff of his neck.

"Last I checked, you two were still on the clock," said Atobe very dangerously, not loosening his hold on his two employees. "If you two are not off giving clients the best lap-dances of their lives in about three seconds, I'll show you both to the door."

Niou couldn't really argue. Yukimura shot him a final dirty look and they both went off to work.

* * *

><p><strong>~o~o~o~<strong>

* * *

><p>Yagyuu greeted him outside the club with a kiss so forceful it pushed all the air out of Niou's lungs and shoved all his thoughts to the back of his mind. Yagyuu even twined one of their hands together when he finally allowed Niou to have some breathing space.<p>

"How was work?" Yagyuu asked as they started walking back.

"Fine," said Niou, not feeling like recounting all that had happened. "Were you waiting outside the whole time?"

"Of course not," said Yagyuu. "I knew at what time you finished. I went to a coffee shop to wait."

"Ah…"

"While I was there, I called my wife," Yagyuu said idly. "And I told her it was true. That I am dating you, I mean."

Niou stopped walking, forcing Yagyuu to stop as well since their hands were still clutched together. He frowned.

On one hand, this was exactly what Niou had wanted earlier, but now that Yagyuu was freely admitting to dating him… It felt strange. The hand holding especially. Would they have to go out on actual dates now? Their old system had been a comfortable arrangement and he didn't really want that to change, Niou thought. Plus hadn't Niou technically broken up with Yagyuu? Okay, well maybe he hadn't specifically said that he wanted them to break up, but he had strongly implied it when he had left Yagyuu's place that afternoon. Then why was Yagyuu holding his hand?

This was weird.

"I can guess she took it well," Niou said. He pulled his hand away.

"As well as you would expect," said Yagyuu.

"So what now?" Niou imagined Yagyuu's wife screaming about how disgusting they were and how she would never let her son be in Niou's presence ever again.

"She was mostly upset that I didn't tell her I was seeing someone. She was also upset that I didn't tell her I was attracted to men," said Yagyuu. "But she was surprisingly understanding once she calmed down. She now believes our marriage falling apart can be explained thanks to my newly awakened sexual orientation."

Niou snorted and said, "That's optimistic of her." Yagyuu reached for his hand again. Niou stuffed them in his pockets. "And you need to stop it."

Yagyuu looked confused. "Stop what?"

"The hand-holding. You're treating me like a girl."

"No, I'm treating you as the person I'm currently dating."

"Yeah… because I'm '_exciting_', right?" said Niou. But really, he didn't understand what Yagyuu meant by that. All Niou ever did was mooch off Yagyuu's food and steal his bed blankets. Niou wasn't sure what part of that was 'exciting'. Yagyuu was just plain odd sometimes.

"You're still angry," stated Yagyuu.

"Gee, you think?"

They reached the building. Niou didn't think he'd be returning to Yagyuu's place so soon, especially not after what had happened this afternoon... but hey, life was full of surprises, right?

Yagyuu pressed the elevator button to head up. "I'm a tad angry over your little stunt earlier as well," said Yagyuu. "I would have liked my wife to find out about us in a better way than a spontaneous kiss."

"We can't have everything we want in life," said Niou with a shrug, entering the elevator. "Besides, angry make-up sex is the best kind of sex."

Yagyuu surprised him by laughing. "Good, I was just thinking about how I would get you to join me in bed tonight," he said and grasped his chin to kiss him breathless again.

Niou didn't hold back this time. He wasn't about to waste this rare moment; it was the first time Yagyuu showed such passionate initiation, especially considering they were not even safely behind closed doors yet. Niou groaned into Yagyuu's mouth, feeling the elevator come to a stop and then Yagyuu's hand curling around his ass and squeezing. Luckily no one else had to use the elevator this late, so the doors shut on them and the elevator stayed put as they shared a few more kisses.

Niou's lower regions were now definitely happy that Yagyuu had apologized. His hand just wasn't a good replacement when it came down to it.

They stumbled into Yagyuu's apartment, their mouths still glued together in a hot and eager embrace. The door slammed shut and Niou felt like he wouldn't mind if Yagyuu pressed him down on the floor and did him on the spot.

When Niou tried remove his shirt, Yagyuu's less fun side showed its face.

"Aren't you going to shower?" Yagyuu asked, his lips red and swollen. "You just came back from work."

"_Yeah_gyuu, you are completely ruining the purpose of spontaneous rough sex," said Niou with a sigh.

"It's not spontaneous if we both know about it beforehand."

Leave it to Yagyuu to ruin the mood. Niou didn't even know why he bothered trying. His dick deflated like a balloon.

"I can join you in the shower?" suggested Yagyuu. The man was a born compromiser.

"Fine." Niou quickly agreed to it. Mainly because he was not in the mood to argue again, but also because Yagyuu's suggestion held a lot of promise and his cock twitched in hope.

In the washroom, Niou quickly discarded all his clothing, throwing it all haphazardly on the floor and turning on the water. He wouldn't have bothered washing so fast normally but he was pretty sure Yagyuu would refuse to touch him until he washed himself. Niou grabbed the bar of soap immediately upon standing under the shower spray.

Yagyuu took forever to join him. Apparently Yagyuu had neatly folded all his clothes, as well as Niou's clothes. Spontaneous sex was an impossibility with Yagyuu around. Niou had long finished washing by the time Yagyuu joined him, allowing the water to wet his brown hair.

Yagyuu looked completely different with his hair wetted down and out of its usual arrangement. His eyes were clearly visible without his glasses, giving them a much more intense look.

"Took you long enough," said Niou.

"If you hadn't left all your clothes everywhere, then I would've been in here sooner," replied Yagyuu. "And why is the water so cold?" He shivered, reaching for the dial and turning it more towards the red. Niou yelped.

"Hey, that's too hot!" Niou roughly lowered the water's temperature again.

Yagyuu frowned and stood out of the water's way. "How can you stand such cold water?"

"Shut up, I like it like this and I'm saving you money on the water bill," said Niou. "If you don't like it, then leave."

Yagyuu actually did leave. Niou slammed his head against the tiles on the wall. Why was Yagyuu being so damn_ difficult_? When Niou left the shower with a towel wrapped around his hips, Yagyuu stepped in and turned on the boiling water.

Fine. If Yagyuu wanted to cook himself in the shower, then so be it.

Damn, nothing was worst than getting your hopes up and then having it shattered, thought Niou. So much for the spontaneous angry sex or the shower sex. At this rate he would be lucky to get any sex at all.

Niou found himself in the bedroom, lying himself down on the wide crisp-white bed. His wet hair sank water into the pillow. Normally he would be tired from a work shift filled with dancing, but all his nerves were tight with anticipation at the moment.

Unfortunately, Niou could still hear the shower running.

His hand snaked lower, cupping himself through the towel and then removing it completely. His other hand sightlessly sought out the bottle he knew was hidden in the bedside drawer. And here he had thought he wouldn't have to enlist in his hand's help tonight.

_Just for a bit_, Niou thought and rubbed along his smooth tip. His cock already felt exhausted from going through the cycle multiple times in the last hour only to have sunken down in disappointment. It didn't help that Niou wished it was someone else's hand doing this. His cock rose slowly, giving in to the quick strokes of his fingers.

His whole body felt like a tight string waiting to snap, yet his climax felt unobtainable. He knew what he wanted and his hand was not it. He heard the door swing open and his eyes looked up, lidded with desire.

Yagyuu was there, in nothing but his bathrobe, his glasses removed and his hair tousled from the shower. He squinted at the sight before him.

"Enjoying the show?" Niou asked. His hand stopped despite his body's protests. Yagyuu edged closer, standing near the foot of the bed.

"Very much," Yagyuu said honestly. "Don't stop on my account."

Niou didn't stop. He spread his legs wider still. This time he sucked on two of his fingers as his other hand diligently resumed the task of stroking him. Once they were amply wet, he trailed them lower, letting them flitter around his entrance.

He watched Yagyuu as he sunk his first finger inside. Yagyuu gave a barely audible groan at the sight, watching the finger push in deeper as if he were mesmerized by the sight. Niou moaned at the simple thought of Yagyuu watching his every motion with such care. He rubbed the seeping pre-come around his dick and gasped as he sank a second finger into himself.

Yagyuu sighed softly, pushing the material of his bathrobe to the side and grasping his own cock. "Niou…kun…" he whispered.

Niou threw his head back, groaning. He stared at Yagyuu, at those hands stroking his cock almost meekly. Niou popped his own fingers out of his ass, bringing them up to play with his balls.

"I want to fuck you, Yagyuu," Niou said.

Yagyuu stopped, appearing to consider it for a few seconds and then resumed stroking. His dick glistened at the tip.

"You'd let me, right?" Niou asked. It wouldn't be the first time he asked. Yagyuu had said no before or had changed the subject without giving an answer. The fact that Yagyuu was even considering it was a good sign. "I'll take it slow. I promise to make you feel good. It would be your first time, right Yagyuu?"

"Niou-kun…" moaned Yagyuu. He didn't answer but he didn't protest either when Niou took his hand and pushed him back against the bed. Niou kissed him, long and deep, feeling Yagyuu steal his breath and then Niou taking it right back. Yagyuu's robe fell open, leaving Niou free to openly caress Yagyuu's body with his fingers.

Niou scratched a nail down on Yagyuu's nipple. "Well?" he asked, looking up at Yagyuu. "What will it be?"

Yagyuu stared at him through half-lidded eyes. Niou half expected Yagyuu to mutter an excuse, distract him with something else or just outright refuse him. Even if he had expected it, Niou was still disappointed when Yagyuu looked away and pushed him off.

What he didn't expect was to be pushed away so that Yagyuu could turn around and get on all fours. Niou gaped openly, seeing Yagyuu blush pink despite his rather stubborn expression.

"I'll change my mind if you're just going to sit there with your mouth open, Niou-kun," warned Yagyuu.

Niou would have kissed him right away if Yagyuu wasn't turned around and glaring down at the bedsheets. Niou sat behind him, running his hands up Yagyuu's thighs, feeling the muscles under the skin clenching in response. Niou stroked a single finger down Yagyuu's spine, roaming it right down to the pucker of Yagyuu's ass.

Yagyuu made an surprised sound. "Don't tease me," he hissed.

"You're too tense," said Niou. "We can't do this if you're this uptight." He stroked his hands up and down along Yagyuu's hips, moving up to knead and massage his buttocks. "Just relax. I won't hurt you." He wished he could turn Yagyuu around and see that embarrassed face, but Niou knew this was the best he was going to get. He reached for the bottle of lubricant.

Yagyuu didn't relax. Niou played with the bottle cap, his other hand running lazy circles along Yagyuu's butt cheek, but still Yagyuu remained tightly strung. Niou contemplated his situation and somehow decided that his next course of action would be to tease the little pucker. With his tongue.

Yagyuu's indignant yelp was all too predictable. Yagyuu craned his head back, his eyes widening when he realized that the slimy hot thing he had felt against his most private place was indeed Niou's tongue. Yagyuu's stomach flipped at the simple thought of how dirty the action was.

"Don't do that," Yagyuu said, much more flustered than usual.

Niou nipped the skin along his entrance. "I'll stop when you relax a bit."

Yagyuu did relax… somewhat. Enough for Niou to stick one slick finger inside him at least. Niou stared at the back of Yagyuu's head, waiting for him to protest and back out. But Yagyuu didn't say a word, not a single groan or complaint, not even when Niou scissored a second finger inside.

He could sense Yagyuu's every breath, could feel every tight clench around his fingers. Niou wished Yagyuu would at least say something, anything but those rhythmic inhales and exhales. He couldn't even see Yagyuu's face… only his sweat-slickened back and tense muscles. It was only when Niou nudged a third finger in that Yagyuu reacted with the smallest of gasps.

"Talk to me," said Niou, kissing his lower back. "How is it?"

"It's… hard to say," said Yagyuu, strangled. The word _full_ came to mind. It hurt when Niou pushed in and craned his fingers in wild directions, but the slide out was smoother and sometimes brushed against the nice spot inside him. He didn't realize how much he really wanted Niou inside him until his fingers were pulling out, making way for something bigger. He could hear the condom package tearing and again the sound of the bottle cap flipping open.

Niou breathed heavily, slicking his dick with easy pumps. God, this was so hot. Yagyuu was so hot. The fact that Niou had waited so long for this made it all sweeter. Forget this morning's fight and the bickering in the shower; he really needed to get his dick inside of Yagyuu before he exploded.

"Don't move," said Niou hoarsely. He only slipped the tip inside and already he knew he wasn't going to last long, which really kind of sucked because he had spend such a long time trying to get himself into Yagyuu's ass and now that he was finally in it would be over so quickly.

Yagyuu shuddered. God, he thought he had been full before… that was nothing compared to now. Every centimeter that pushed inside him made him bite his lip harder. It was supposed to hurt and stretch him unbearably, but Yagyuu could only think of _hot_ and _full, too full_ and the way Niou panted against his back. And then Niou moved and Yagyuu's moans filled the room. Yagyuu vaguely thought that he wasn't supposed to feel this good on his first time... it was like Niou was specially curved to fit inside him all the while rubbing against his good spots. Yagyuu felt Niou smirk against his back.

"I told you I'd make it good," Niou said. "Ahh, I want to see your face next time, _Yeah_gyuu. I want to see the face you make when you take my cock."

Yagyuu very nearly swore. Niou pounded into him hard and what came out of Yagyuu's mouth sounded like a distorted version of Niou's name. Niou's thrusts continued without cease and Yagyuu choked on air and chanted Niou's name some more. He could only think that Niou really needed to continue because this was really good and Yagyuu could feel his cock leaking all over the sheets, but then Niou instantly saw to that problem by fingering his slit and it resulted in the clumsiest, most amazing sensation.

Niou's hand came back wet. Yagyuu was leaking pre-come like a broken faucet. "You're so wet," Niou murmured against Yagyuu's shoulder. He grazed his teeth along the skin there and continued thrusting his cock through the multiple shudders wracking through Yagyuu. He kept on hitting that spot, his cock curling up on that bundle of nerves and every time he pushed back in, Yagyuu choked and clenched and oozed all over his hand.

Yagyuu reached back, his fingers digging into Niou's hips. "T-There…!" Yagyuu said. "Keep going."

Damn. Niou bit his lip until it hurt, hoping to divert his attention away from the irresistible sight underneath him. He was on the brink of losing it. He stroked Yagyuu's dick harder, his hand as jerky as the movement of his hips. Niou knew he couldn't hold off for much longer, not with the way Yagyuu was grinding back like he couldn't get enough of his cock.

Yagyuu arched with a cry, tilting his head just enough to look at Niou. Niou snapped his hips as far as they could go and took Yagyuu's lips in a sloppy over-the-shoulder kiss. Yagyuu bucked into Niou's hand and then his arms gave way, pushing his whole upper body against the bed as his orgasm wracked through him and soaked Niou's hand.

"Fuck," Niou swore and allowed himself to let go as well. He imagined that he was filling Yagyuu to the brink with his hot seed as he shot off into the condom. He collapsed on top of Yagyuu, shaking through his final spurts.

The room reeked of sweat and sex. It was intoxicating. Niou rolled to Yagyuu's side, slipping his arms around the brunet's waist and slipping his dick out of him. He kissed Yagyuu's shoulder and heard Yagyuu respond with a sigh.

"See, I told you it wouldn't hurt," Niou said, boasting just a little bit. "I'm not an expert or anything, but I'm a million percent sure you enjoyed that."

Yagyuu turned to face him and kissed Niou's cheek tenderly. "Hm, I was more of less ready for the sensation," said Yagyuu. "Even if I had only practiced with two fingers previously."

Niou felt his brain short circuit and his softened cock twitched at those words. "You practiced?" he squeaked out, looking at Yagyuu with bewilderment. It took no effort to imagine Yagyuu laid out on his back, pressing two of his own fingers into himself.

Yagyuu nodded.

"When did that happen and where was I?" demanded Niou.

"Ah, you were at work," said Yagyuu. "You had mentioned taking me a few times in the past so I thought I would take precautions by practicing beforehand."

Niou groaned, putting his head back down on the pillow. "Stop, don't say anything more, or else I'll have to go to the bathroom and take care of myself." He laughed at himself a bit. Of course Yagyuu masturbated. It was only normal. "And here I thought all you did when you were at home all alone was work like the good old prude you are."

"Well, I do get some work done as well," said Yagyuu, as if eager to salvage his dignity.

"Good, that sounds more like the _Yeah_gyuu I know. Doing work and making phone calls and writing paper work… and… Wait, what do you do for a living?"

Yagyuu looked insulted that Niou didn't know the answer to that.

"Hospital director and surgeon," Yagyuu said grimly.

"Hey, don't be insulted. It's not like you know what school_ I_ go to or which Kamen Rider is my favourite," said Niou. "But seriously, _a doctor?_ Should I start addressing you as Doctor Yagyuu?"

"I'd rather you didn't. That's my work name," said Yagyuu.

Niou hummed and, like any sane human being would, began to think of various kinky doctor scenarios in his head. He was tired and sated and Yagyuu was nice and warm against him. Yagyuu said some more things, about his job and his family and Niou listened at first and then before he knew it, he was dozing off. The last thing he felt before he succumbed to sleep was the feeling of Yagyuu's lips kissing his forehead.

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><p><strong>~o~o~o~<strong>


	17. Chapter 17

**Title: The Imperial Palace Chapter 17.**

**Setting: Strip Club AU.**

**Rating: M FOR MASTURBATION.**

**Is this real life?: _yes, I updated this thing yes._ **

**Pairing: MOTHERFUCKING PERFECT PAIR(_-ISH_). **

**Warnings: Uncreative content, possible OOC-ness, Fuji, drunk!Fuji, more Fuji****, etc.**

**Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis isn't mine and it's not yours either. **

**~o~o~o~**

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><p>The Imperial Palace looked completely different in the light of the morning. It was strangely quiet, without a soul in sight. Tezuka creaked the door open, pausing to lock it behind him and then surveyed his workplace.<p>

Well… it was now his old workplace, he supposed.

The dance floor looked large and ordinary without the dim lights and bodies of dancers. The place almost looked like an abandoned building, only a lot neater. It was amazing what some music, some flashes of colourful lights and strippers on stage could do to completely change the mood of the place at night. Tezuka had finished his last shift only a few hours ago, but it already felt like he had left for ages.

He paused by the bar, running a hand along the smooth mahogany. Every glass and every bottle was in perfect place for the next person to take over. Tezuka at least hoped the next bartenders would keep things clean and in their rightful place.

His footsteps echoed in the room as he made his way to the hidden door leading up to the boss' office. That was where he found Atobe, asleep on the couch with an open, barely drunk bottle of champagne on the floor beside him and a novel open on top of his face.

Tezuka cleared his throat loudly. Six times.

Atobe finally shifted as he awoke, a groan leaving his lips as the book slid to the floor with a thump. He looked at his watch and clearly didn't like what hour it was.

"Make it fast, I still have a lot more sleep left in me," said Atobe.

Tezuka stepped forward and put his neatly folded uniform on the desk. "I'm only here to return my uniform and key. Thank you for everything, Atobe-san," he said and bowed rather formally.

Atobe yawned. "So that's it? You're not going to reconsider?" he asked. Tezuka resisted the urge to sigh. Atobe had tried to get him to stay several times already. "You're good at your job, you know. I could easily give you a raise. The speed you work at is worth three regular employees."

"Thank you, but it's not about the money, Atobe-san," said Tezuka.

"Hm… or I could hire you as a dancer." Atobe winked at him. "You have the looks for it."

Tezuka felt his eye twitch. After so long, he was getting used to ignoring his boss' jabs. "No thank you. I'll be taking my leave now."

"Hn. Good luck with school or whatever it is you're doing now," said Atobe, waving him off and promptly falling back asleep.

And that was that. Tezuka bowed his head again on his way out, even if Atobe was back to snoring before Tezuka had even exited the room. He walked slowly down the steps, thinking about how this was his last time in the Imperial Palace as an employee. It had been a good job, he thought, despite the horrendously late hours. He had met some nice people and the tips were always top notch. He would miss it, he supposed.

He heard the sounds of footsteps before he reached the landing. Tezuka normally wouldn't be bothered by someone else being there, but he hadn't counted on seeing Fuji there of all people.

Fuji was up on the main stage, his leg wrapped around the pole, stretching. Parts of Tezuka's mind told him to run, or hide, or do both. He didn't do either of that. Instead he found himself approaching the stage, dutifully aware of Fuji spotting him in the corner of his eye. Fuji was obviously about to practice. He wore sweats and had a speaker attached to his MP3 on the side of the stage.

"Good morning," said Tezuka, stepping up the steps leading to the stage. His voice felt loud and echoed in the wide room.

"Is it?" asked Fuji. "I'm feeling absolutely rotten this morning actually."

Tezuka had nothing to say to that. It was the first time he had spoken to Fuji in over a week. Tezuka knew why.

"I used to practice so hard in the mornings," said Fuji. "And I would always look forward to finishing a new routine, just so I could see your reaction to it. Silly, isn't it?"

Tezuka's eyes hardened. "I meant to tell you I was quitting-"

"Oh, _did_ you?" said Fuji, leaning on the pole. "What a relief, I was afraid I had ruined all your plans by finding out myself. Please, go on, I'm _dying_ to know what your excuse is."

"I don't have one," Tezuka admitted. "You have every right to be angry."

Fuji surveyed him as if looking at a strange new creature. As awful as the situation was, Tezuka wasn't about to lie about this. He had no good reason for his silence save for his own hesitation. It was the very same feeling of reluctance that showed its ugly head whenever Fuji teased him or stole a kiss during work hours. It was a queer feeling he got that made him question his actions, asking himself where this relationship was headed, and Tezuka never had an answer. He knew nothing about Fuji, nothing at all.

Tezuka would be lying if he said this wasn't hard, but he had decided it was for the best. Fuji was absolutely stunning. Fuji was so beautiful and graceful that anyone would have to be blind not to notice it. Fuji could have anyone he wanted, man or woman, in the blink of an eye. Fuji was in a whole different league of his own. Yes, Tezuka had been unable to resist in the past for the exact reasons being that Fuji was so attractive, but how long would he be happy with mere infatuation? Every time Fuji smirked at him and laughed at his reaction, Tezuka could only feel like he was being toyed with.

They had never seen each other outside of work. They had never exchanged numbers. But mainly, they had never sat down for a conversation without having it escalate to full-on flirting or more. Perhaps that was all Fuji really wanted. Perhaps Tezuka was nothing more than a way for Fuji to pass some time at work. Certainly Fuji hadn't shown any hints to suggest he wanted something more serious out of this.

All that hesitation had gotten him nowhere and ended in Tezuka remaining silent about his plans to leave the Imperial Palace.

"I see," said Fuji, tapping his lip thoughtfully. Tezuka met his eyes, his gaze then slipping down to those supple lips. He could easily recall the hot breathtaking way that mouth tasted. "I was wondering why you were acting so cold towards me lately."

"I did try to tell you," said Tezuka. He had mentioned it in passing a while ago.

"At least answer me this, Tezuka," said Fuji. "Do you like me at all?"

"Yes."

Fuji spun once around the pole, regarding him some more. "Only one word, huh?" said Fuji and sighed. "You are the most infuriating person I've ever had the pleasure to meet, Tezuka Kunimitsu. I've known you all this time and yet I feel like I've made no progress with you. You're still an oyster cooped up in its shell." He laughed humourlessly.

Fuji's tone became melancholic, his anger gone just as sudden as his mirth had appeared. "I do wish you luck in your studies," said Fuji. "Go on then, I'm sure you have lots of things you'd be better off doing than standing around here watching me practice a routine."

Tezuka did not generally have urges to do sudden actions. Even as a teenager he hadn't been a particularly impulsive person. But now, at that moment, he really wanted to kiss Fuji. He wanted to hug him and apologize and ask if he could come back. He considered for a split second that maybe Fuji wouldn't be against the idea of getting coffee together. However, Tezuka didn't do any of that. Fuji twirled around his pole again and suddenly the dancer felt as distant as if he were standing atop a mountain surrounded by impenetrable walls.

Tezuka turned around and left, entirely too frustrated with himself.

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><p><strong>~o~o~o~<strong>

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><p>All of Fuji's will to practice left him the moment Tezuka stepped out of the Imperial Palace. Fuji tightened his fist around the pole, fighting back the urge to punch something. Instead, Fuji went off to bother someone else with his problem.<p>

Fuji slammed the door to Atobe's office open with a groundshaking slam. Atobe jumped awake, looking exceptionally startled with his blond hair in disarray.

"I swear to god if another person wakes me up today, that person is going to find themselves without a job-"

Fuji ignored his boss in favour of searching through Atobe's private liquor cabinet. It was well-stocked. "Atobe, what's the strongest thing you have in here?" Fuji asked.

Atobe rubbed his eyes and took a good long minute to answer. "Cognac. The bottle on the bottom left."

Fuji found it quickly enough. It was unopened and Fuji clawed at the lid with his nails until it finally came loose. He drank it immediately, smelling the strong liquor and feeling the burn of it run down his throat. He wanted to drink the whole thing.

It wasn't after the fourth long swing from the bottle that Fuji realized Atobe was staring at him. Fuji moved and the room swayed dangerously. He lowered the bottle from his lips, not realizing how much he had drank until now that he tried making his way to the couch.

"Should I even bother telling you the price of that bottle?" Atobe asked.

"No. Anything you buy has too many numbers for my liking," answered Fuji. "If you kept the cabinet downstairs unlocked, I wouldn't have to come up here and raid your fridge." He held up the bottle once more, contemplated it for a long time and then decided that his throat was due for another burning slide of the alcohol.

Atobe kept on staring. Fuji held out the bottle towards him.

"No thank you," Atobe politely declined. "Not this early in the morning."

"Pity."

Atobe was still lying there without a care in the world. Fuji felt like he needed to hold on to something so he gripped the armrest. Fuji only meant to stabilize himself, but then he somehow began crawling up along the length of the couch. His knees bumped against Atobe's thigh. As graceful as Fuji usually was, he was anything but elegant as he swung one leg over Atobe's frame, straddling his boss.

Atobe's eyes held only amusement. His hands went up to rest on Fuji's hips. "You're a lightweight, aren't you?"

"How do you know I'm not doing this of my own accord?" Fuji asked. He lightly rolled his hips, performing motions he was all too familiar with. Atobe was pleasingly solid underneath him. It would be almost easy, Fuji thought, to pretend that Atobe was Tezuka and just continue this scenario. Tezuka and Atobe had such similar body measurements…

"Yes, your services are as lovely as I've heard," said Atobe. "Nothing less than I'd expect from my_ finest_ employee."

Fuji threw his head back, licking his lips. He felt so hot. "Atobe, have you ever slept with one of your employees?"

Atobe smirked in response. "I haven't. I'm very professional when it comes to my job."

"Hm, so even someone like you is faithful," said Fuji, his tone gone glum. "Even if your boyfriend is out of the country."

The room suddenly went spinning. It took a moment for Fuji to realize Atobe had flipped them over. Atobe lay over him, his arrogant smirk plastered on his face and for a second he looked ready to take Fuji up on his offer.

"I don't have a boyfriend," said Atobe slowly. "If you had taken your own relationship seriously and hadn't teased Tezuka to his limit, then maybe you wouldn't be up here offering yourself to your boss while being half-drunk early on a nice Saturday morning."

Fuji stretched nicely, bringing one leg up around Atobe's waist.

Atobe growled. "Boy, you are out of your league on this one," he said and detached himself from the couch. "Is this how you work? You offer yourself to people and chase after the ones who pull away?"

"I do not."

"You do," said Atobe. "You've been working here a long time. I've seen your conquests. All you want is a challenge and Tezuka was your biggest challenge yet. Is this the first time you've lost at your own game, Fuji?"

Fuji opened his mouth again only to close it an instant later. He rested back on the soft leather. The haze in his mind made it hard to think. He thought about Tezuka for a second but that was painful to do so he stopped.

"I'm a genius, you know," Fuji said suddenly. "A lot of things come easily to me. You can't blame me for seeking a challenge once in a while."

"I'm aware," said Atobe. "I was there when you began working here, remember? You had no experience, yet you mastered the pole in a day when most people take months of classes to look even half as graceful as you do."

It wasn't only the pole he had mastered. Fuji thought back to before all this, to before he had this job. He remembered mastering the piano when he was a small child and doing schoolwork meant for children five years ahead of him. He remembered getting his college degree when others his age were finishing high school. He remembered… other men, and women too, a lot of them... too many of them. They had all eventually given in to him and some had even fallen in love. Most importantly, Fuji remembered how fast he would grow bored of it all.

Fuji laughed bitterly. Perhaps karma was catching up to him. His heart ached when he thought of Tezuka. Fuji didn't want to think he loved Tezuka, but what else could his horrible ache be? Was this how all the others in the past had felt when Fuji had left them?

"I'm the worst," Fuji muttered.

Fuji looked over at Atobe, now glad that his boss had chosen to ignore the dancer's temptations. That could have resulted in a regretful mistake.

"Don't feel bad. I'm sure another man will come along for you to torment and tease to your heart's content," Atobe replied.

Atobe was an asshole, Fuji decided. "Now, Atobe-kun, would you care to tell me the real reason why you refused my offer?" Fuji asked. "I didn't realize you had become so attached to that boy, the tennis player."

Atobe laughed dismissively. "I know what you're implying, Fuji. That's not it."

"Hm… then you should explain it to me. I've seen you and that boy all over the gossip magazines lately."

Atobe's eyes narrowed. "You've now overstayed your welcome, Fuji. I do expect you to be sober for tonight and ready with a new routine by tomorrow." He grabbed the half-empty bottle out of Fuji's hands. Fuji stood up, a wave of dizziness washing over him. He let Atobe escort him to the door.

"You've got a big case of denial, don't you Atobe-kun?" Fuji asked. Atobe shut the door in his face.

Fuji couldn't help but feel angrier when he returned to the stage downstairs; only this time, his anger at Tezuka was mixed with anger directed at himself. His vision was blurry and the ground swayed. Fuji thankfully still had the common sense to conclude that he should wait a few hours before he attempted practicing again.

Damn it, this whole thing was stupid. At the very least, Tezuka ought to have mentioned the fact that he was leaving his job. Everyone in the whole damn place had known before Fuji. Even if Tezuka was not interested in him anymore, it would have been a polite thing to do! Fuji nodded to himself, deciding that he ought to tell that to Tezuka. Yes, Tezuka definitely needed to know how rude he was to have done this.

But when Fuji pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, he realized he didn't have Tezuka's number. Fuji stared down at his phone for a good long minute in dismay.

He pulled down one of the barstools to take a seat, thinking that maybe Atobe had been right about him this time.

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><p><strong>~o~o~o~<strong>

* * *

><p>Fuji had a throbbing headache later that evening and the pain relief meds weren't working. In the changing rooms, Fuji tried to smile and act as normal as possible as he pulled on his new uniform while Yukimura and Shiraishi fixed their hair in front of the mirror. Muffled music could be heard and already that was making Fuji's head throb. He didn't even want to imagine how much his head would be pounding when he actually went on to the dance floor.<p>

As usual, Shiraishi chose to forsaken half of his attire in favour of his personal artistic opinions. Besides the skin-tight medical-blue briefs, the stethoscope was the only other thing on his body. Yukimura did put on the doctor's white vest (if it could even be called that. The vest was white but it was far shorter and tighter than a real one), as well as thin glasses that gave him a more intellectual appearance.

And, as usual, Atobe had given Fuji a far more feminized dress code. It was not the worst thing Fuji had ever worn and okay, it was true that Fuji _did_ look very good in women's wear. So Fuji pulled up his stockings and donned the skimpy nurse dress with the stupid little headpiece without a word of complaint. Fuji could definitely say that he at least looked a bit more sexy than hungover.

"You seem rather down today, Fuji-kun," said Shiraishi. "Don't you like the new uniforms? I think it looks good on you."

"No, the uniforms are fine," muttered Fuji. "I simply have other things on my mind."

Yukimura and Shiraishi stared at each other for a long minute but didn't meddle.

Fuji hoped his mood would change once he got to work, but once his shift started, working hardly did anything to distract him.

The night passed by at a snail's pace, with each minute fueling his frustrations and his headache. His new dance routine wasn't done, much to Atobe's annoyance. Fuji got to avoid the stage that night, which in turn annoyed some of the regular clients - the ones who often came to watch Fuji's performances and were always generous, if not touchy about their affections.

He could go for any of them, he thought. Fuji knew he could have any person he wanted in this club. But Fuji had zero interest for anyone that night. A tall dark haired man tried his hand at flirting and Fuji had no patience for it, no matter how handsome the man was. Fuji knew who he wanted and that person had stepped out of his life that morning.

He thought the night would never end. He wasn't the only one exhausted by the end of it; uniform changes always came with a more enthusiastic clientele in the beginning. At least Atobe was pleased enough with the client's positive feedback that he left Fuji alone. Instead it was Yukimura who came to him.

"I heard what happened," said Yukimura. "I had no idea Tezuka-kun was so important to you. We can go out for tea if it will make you feel better."

Fuji shook his head. "No thanks. Of course Tezuka is important, even if you and Atobe-kun don't seem to think that's the case." He scowled, his tone darkened with anger.

"Well..." Yukimura paused, as if contemplating what to say. "I always thought that was a major reason why we got along, Fuji. Both of us were rather... similar. I never sought out a serious relationship before and neither did you. We both went after some people in the past and encouraged one another. I'm sorry if I offended you."

Fuji released a long breath. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you, Yukimura. I'm happy you and Sanada-kun are together again and... it's true that I've never really been involved in long-lasting relationships," he admitted. He gave a wry smile. "Maybe I'm just a bit jealous. Sorry, Yukimura, but I would like to be alone for now."

Fuji was in no hurry to get home. He let Shiraishi and Yukimura change first. Yukimura was in a hurry to go meet up with Sanada and Shiraishi was happily humming a tune without a care in the world. Fuji envied them. He wished he had someone's arms to return to and he wished he could carelessly whistle his worries away too. He was left alone, staring at his reflection in the mirror for a long time.

By the time he allowed himself to change clothes and exit the dressing room hallway, he was the last person left in the building. The stage had been cleaned, the floors were sweeped and the bar stood in the corner all neat and without a speck of dust. Everything was quiet except for Fuji's echoing footsteps.

He went towards the bar and glared at the changes he saw. The multiple glasses and bottles were still there, but already they were in different places.

Fuji thought about Tezuka and ran his hand along the dustless countertop, remembering how Tezuka had often swept his own hands along the very same place. Fuji imagined how Tezuka would have reacted had he been here today to see the new uniforms, and then Fuji thought about all the things he had fantasized about doing with Tezuka right here at this very bar.

Fuji had thought of these things before, many times, and he had even indulged himself in a few. The bar itself was a frequent fantasy of his. It was where he had most often imagined kissing Tezuka and pushing him against the counter and then pulling him down to devour him against the floor. The counters of the bar would hide them, but not too well. They would easily be discovered if someone were to hear them, but that was what made it so exciting. Fuji's fingertips wandered up his chest, brushing past his nipples and up his neck. He sighed, closing his eyes and imagining different, much broader hands.

"Tezuka," sighed Fuji through parted lips. He slipped his finger into his mouth, sinking down to his knees. He shouldn't be doing this, he was far too exhausted for it, but it had been so very long and he was so frustrated, both with himself and with the object of his affections.

He lapped at his fingers and let his other hand delve under his shirt, pinching one stiff nipple and then the other. He was acutely aware of how loud his breathing sounded in the otherwise empty room. Not that it stopped him from continuing.

He sank to the floor, his back against solid wood. He spread his legs, pushing his pants down impatiently. He rubbed the inside of his thighs, teasing himself with feather light touches. Tezuka would tease him, Fuji thought. Only the teasing wouldn't be on purpose. Tezuka wouldn't know what to do; he'd touch and then look to him for confirmation. Tezuka would be so clueless yet so perfect in his touches.

"Te… zuka…" Fuji said.

He imagined Tezuka standing there, at the opening to the bar and staring at him, completely still with his gaze fully focused on the area between Fuji's legs. Fuji shivered, gasping as he slid two slick fingers into himself. He felt angry and bitter, though he didn't sound it as he threw his head back and let out an unrestrained moan. He worked himself open, scissoring and hissing at the stretch. God, it had been far too long.

Even if Tezuka were here, he probably wouldn't do anything to help. _That infuriating prude_, thought Fuji. After all the times he had pleasured Tezuka, Fuji thought he at least deserved some kind of reward. No... that wasn't it. On the contrary, he had liked pleasuring Tezuka; that had been its own reward. Fuji had liked getting on his knees and teasing him until Tezuka was ready to burst. He had liked drawing out the other's heavy cock and tasting the saltiness on his tongue. Fuji knew he would do it again in an instant if given the chance.

Fuji stared at the spot in front of him, imagining Tezuka's tall figure coming closer, still doing nothing except watching him through those thin lens. Fuji pressed in deeper with his fingers, hitting that really good spot. He cried out and canted his hips. His own cock was leaking pre-come, but still Fuji didn't want to touch it. He let Tezuka's gaze burn through him some more.

"Tezuka... It's shame you weren't here today. I had a nurse outfit, with the sort of dress and the high stockings you like. I would've danced with you, and grinded on you so hard you'd come in your pants, right in front of everyone." Fuji paused to lick his lips. He moved his fingers faster, faster and faster, assaulting his prostate so good his legs shook. "You would have loved it... you pervert."

He wanted more than this. He wanted something bigger. He wanted Tezuka to throw away his stoic attitude and just take him right there and now. But the real Tezuka wouldn't do that… No, Tezuka would start off gentle and as unsure as always, then maybe he would gain confidence over time. A guttural moan slipped out of Fuji's mouth. The dancer had to grip the base of his cock to prevent himself from climaxing. He continued riding his fingers as it became harder and harder to ward off his orgasm.

"Tezuka. Tezuka, _please_," gasped Fuji. His wrist was growing sore, fingers crooking hard inside him. The hand grasping the root of his erection stroked up, swiping a thumb over the wet tip. Fuji choked, throwing his head back as his climax tore through him. He pleaded and frantically whispered Tezuka's name over and over as spurts of white polished his hand and dirtied the floor underneath him.

The intensity of his orgasm rendered him limp and speechless for several minutes. His whole body tingled with the good sensation. He attempted to catch his breath as he wiped his hand on the hem on discarded pants. Fuji had been right; it had been far too long. He now regretted not having done more with Tezuka when he still had the chance. Fuji looked up, blinking the fantasy out of his traitorous mind.

Fuji knew he should be putting his clothes back on and cleaning the evidence of his deed. Instead he curled up into himself, laying his head against his knees as tears prickled along the corners of his eyes. The final wisps of his fantasy slipped from his mind as the first tears slid down his cheeks.

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><p><strong>~o~o~o~<strong>


	18. Chapter 18

**Title: The Imperial Palace Chapter 18.**

**Setting: Strip Club AU.**

**Rating: T (for boys kissing hurrhurr)**

**Pairing: Shiraishi/Kirihara (Surprise!)**

**Warnings: Uncreative content, possible OOC-ness, I destroyed the Imperial Palace, I mean Oshitari destroyed it, I'm serious Oshitari fucking destroyed a strip club. Also wow I turned Shiraishi into a total weirdo. Sorry about that.**

_**Actual Warning: Underage boy kissing not-underage boy.**_

**Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis is not mine.**

**~o~o~o~**

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><p>The night ended in a disaster.<p>

No one was quite sure what had happened. The evening had started off normally. All the dancers were off doing their jobs and the customers were enthusiastically dancing or groping the strippers as usual. The DJ had put on some pretty good music and Fuji had been grinding on the pole like he had been born to do it; nothing was out of the ordinary.

Honestly, it wasn't anyone's fault, not really. The new bartenders were still getting used to the job and had only been working there for a couple of nights at most. They hadn't known... until it was too late.

The entire club had to be evacuated. Alarms were sounding and people were screaming, rushing outside in a mad flurry. The dancers grouped together for warmth, rushing out into the cold night wearing nearly nothing. Three police cars were there, and even one firetruck racing down the street. Atobe was off to the side, screaming at someone in a police uniform. Most of the clients were already gone, off bar-hopping elsewhere, but some had whipped out their cellphones and were videotaping anything they could see.

"What happened?" Everyone seemed to be asking.

Shiraishi was one of the last to exit the club, followed only by Jackal the bodyguard. He went to stand with his co-workers, who were all off to the side and huddled in a circle with only a few jackets to cover them. Sanada was there too, standing protectively behind Yukimura.

"Oh thank god," said Yukimura when he spotted Shiraishi. "I thought you were done for. When I saw him going after you…" Yukimura shook his head, moving in to hug him. "I feared the worst."

Behind them, one of the new bartenders was crying, huddled on the sidewalk with his head down. The second bartender was nearby, still visibly shaken and stuttering out answers to whatever questions a policeman was asking him.

"Oh dear. I hope Atobe-kun doesn't fire them. They honestly didn't know any better," said Shiraishi. Still, he too was shaken. That had been a sight he had hoped to never see again. "It was hell in there… Oshitari's just out of control." It had all happened so fast, in the split second when Atobe had taken his eyes off his friend Oshitari Yuushi.

"H-He j-just asked me f-for another drink…" said the bartender to the police officers, trembling and pale. "I-I didn't know he had already had five… I didn't know h-he had a five drink limit…"

Atobe stepped forward, fisting his hand through the new employee's shirt. "You're the one who gave him another drink? You moron! You're fired! And you too for not stopping him!" He shouted at both bartenders in a rage. "You never_ ever_ give Oshitari a sixth drink! Not if you value your lives."

A loud crashing sound came from within the club. A policeman re-emerged from within, his clothes completely dishevelled. "We need backup! Call reinforcements!"

Fuji shook his head. "I never thought this would happen again. I never thought I'd live to see Oshitari drunk once more."

"At least he didn't start a fire this time," said Yukimura. "Let's just pray the police can get him under control."

Atobe groaned, looking like he wanted to leave and deal with this shit some other time. "I swear to god, if there's any property damage…" Another loud crash came from within. It sounded like Oshitari had finally dismantled the pole like he had been trying to do before. Atobe sighed. "On the other hand, I should just go call the insurance company right now. The rest of you can go. I don't think we'll be able to re-open the club tonight."

The dancers all exchanged looks. "Whatever, as long as I get paid for this," said Mukahi and left in the direction of his noisy old car. Shishido ran to beg him for a lift but Mukahi drove away while giving him the finger.

Fuji found a clean spot along the sidewalk and sat down. "My things are still inside. I'll wait here I suppose," he said with a shrug. Poor Fuji hadn't been too cheerful recently. His mood didn't lift no matter what anyone said to him.

"How about we go?" Yukimura asked Sanada. The capped man nodded, his concerned expression fading away when he realized he would be getting extra time to spend with Yukimura. They were about to leave when Yukimura stopped and looked over at Shiraishi. Yukimura took the oversized black jacket off his shoulders and tossed it over to Shiraishi. "Wear it before you get arrested please."

Shiraishi protested. "You'll get cold-"

"I still have a shirt on," said Yukimura. "Don't worry, just give it back tomorrow."

Fine. Shiraishi supposed it couldn't be helped. He shrugged the jacket on, realizing only when Yukimura had gone that the jacket was too big to be Yukimura's. No doubt it was Sanada's.

Shiraishi didn't like this one bit. He couldn't go home now! It was only ten o'clock. Going home and sleeping now would ruin his entire cycle. Shiraishi was not about to toss his perfectly balanced time intervals of slumber into disequilibrium simply because Oshitari had gotten a little drunk and destroyed half of the Imperial Palace.

He supposed he could go kill some time. Shiraishi still felt wide awake.

The place he ended up at was a small coffee shop one street over. The bell rang as Shiraishi entered the small place. It was rather dim, with comfy-looking couches and dull music. There was more people than he expected, though most of them were young adults with heavy school books, tall coffee mugs and bags under their eyes.

"One chai tea please," Shiraishi told the man behind the counter.

"That'll be 210 yen."

Shiraishi had a momentarily moment of panic when he reached into the pockets of the long jacket and remembered that he didn't have his wallet on him. He remembered his tips a moment later. He reached under the long jacket, accidentally flashing a bit of skin to the cashier in the process, and found a rumpled 1000 yen bill stuffed along the hem of his skin-tight blue briefs. He grabbed it and tried to straighten it out as best he could before handing it to the cashier with a smile.

The cashier looked like Shiraishi had handed him a used tissue. The man took the bill with the barely tips of his fingers and practically threw the change back at Shiraishi. The tea followed a second later. The cashier didn't even look up as Shiraishi thanked him.

Shiraishi took his tea and found a seat next to the window. He wondered if everything at the Imperial Palace had calmed down yet. Depending on how much damage was done, the club might have to remain closed tomorrow. Atobe must be in a fury plus he now had to hire new bartenders on top of it all.

The person sitting at the table behind Shiraishi let out a long sigh, followed by the ruffling of pages.

Ah, it really was such a shame, Shiraishi thought as he sipped his tea. It had been such a good night too, with all the right vibes and the rampant feeling of ecstasy rushing through him as he danced. Shiraishi had really been in the mood back there. He could only hope Oshitari would get better soon. The sooner everything went back to normal, the faster Shiraishi could get back into his routine.

As Shiraishi considered how he would be spending his day tomorrow, the person behind him dropped something and groaned. A pencil rolled along the floor, stopping right next to Shiraishi's foot.

Shiraishi smiled and bent over to pick it up. When Shiraishi turned, he found a dark-haired young man bent over a heavy book and looking like he understood absolutely nothing of it.

"Don't push yourself," said Shiraishi, beaming. He held the pencil out, placing it along the corner of the table "It will come to you. Just let the ecstasy flow."

The boy looked up seconds later, realizing Shiraishi was addressing him. "What the heck are you-" The boy froze, his green eyes going wide. Shiraishi realized in the same instant that he knew this boy with the messy black curls.

"Ah." Shiraishi scratched his head for a second. "Kirihara-chan, right?"

Kirihara rushed to stuff all his books into his backpack as fast as he could. In the process, he managed to drop his pencil case. Pens and erasers rolled out, one falling under the table. Kirihara cursed and chased after it.

Shiraishi got up to help, picking up the pen closest to him. Kirihara snatched it out of his hand in an instant, abandoning whatever was left on the ground. He clipped Shiraishi's shoulder hard on his way out. Kirihara didn't even turn to apologize. Kirihara rushed out like he had seen something very disturbing.

Concerned, Shiraishi ran after him.

"Wait, Kirihara-chan!" Shiraishi shouted when he was outside. Kirihara had his back hunched and continued walking like he hadn't heard anything. Shiraishi screamed louder. "Kirihara-chan!"

"Stop calling me that!" Finally Kirihara turned to glare at Shiraishi. "Stop following me, I can walk home by myself!" Shiraishi jogged over to Kirihara's side, happy that he'd remembered the boy's name correctly. Kirihara narrowed his eyes. "And where the hell are your pants?" the boy asked.

Shiraishi's legs were very much bare under the long jacket. He shrugged. "My boss's friend got drunk and trashed the club. I have no idea if my pants survived," Shiraishi explained. He smiled and stepped closer to ruffle Kirihara's hair. "How are you, little one? I'm glad you took my advice seriously and stopped coming to the club."

Kirihara slapped his hand away. "Yeah, I wonder why I never returned. It must be because you told my mother and had me grounded for a month," said Kirihara, his voice oozing sarcasm.

"Oh Kirihara-chan, it was for your own good."

"I don't care! I hate you!" Kirihara cried out. "I got into so much trouble because of you!"

"It's safer that way, Kirihara-chan," said Shiraishi with a wide smile. "Boys your age shouldn't be out at night in clubs. There are all kinds of dangerous people in the world ready to prey on cute little boys like you."

"I can defend myself perfectly fine! I'll be eighteen really soon," whined Kirihara. He looked away. "I don't care about getting grounded. I… I just didn't want my mom to find out like this."

Kirihara crossed his arms, blinking rapidly as if trying to ward off some distress. He genuinely did look dismayed.

"Find out what?" Shiraishi asked, though he had a vague suspicion judging by how quiet Kirihara had gotten. He waited patiently until Kirihara stopped walking. Shiraishi could practically hear the boy's inner debate. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Shiraishi added.

"I-I didn't want her to know… t-that I like… guys," Kirihara said, so low that Shiraishi could barely hear him. "I mean… I think I do. I dunno." He sighed, scratching the curls on his head in confusion.

_Poor boy_, thought Shiraishi. Kirihara was experiencing that kind of difficult stage. "Your parents would have found out eventually," said Shiraishi, gentle. "If they aren't supportive, give it some time and-"

"No, it's not that," Kirihara snapped, kicking a rock off the sidewalk. "My mom didn't make a big deal out of it. I think she was more upset that I was acquainted with a stripper from the local strip club. She gave me an awkward talk afterwards."

"As your friendly neighbourhood exotic dancer, perhaps I can be of assistance," said Shiraishi. "If you want to talk about it, I'm relatively familiar with this topic."

Kirihara looked at him wearily as if saying _'I really don't want to discuss this'_.

"...Or not," Shiraishi added. "I won't force you, but it always helps to talk if you're uncertain."

"I don't know. It's not like I have any experience in this area," said Kirihara, reddening. "I still dunno how I'm supposed to know who I should like. Girls are nice and pretty and all, but they never clicked for me. I was planning to go to the strip club just once, just to see how it was. I was stupid. I thought going in the club would sate my curiosity and end it there. Instead I found..." Kirihara looked over at Shiraishi then turned back around. "Yeah. Sorry, it's a dumb story."

"There's nothing to feel guilty about," Shiraishi said, putting one hand on Kirihara's shoulder. He sighed, clenching his other hand into a passionate fist. "Ah, summer, the season of sweet awakening… When the sweet little bud grows into a flower bursting with lustful desire!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Your curiosity is entirely natural, Kirihara-chan," said Shiraishi. "It's all human nature. Truly, who can resist the appeal of the human body in full bloom!"

"Please put your clothes back on."

Shiraishi wasn't exactly sure when he had discarded his jacket. It was on the floor at his feet. He picked it up and put it back on in a hurry, quickly making sure it hadn't gotten dirty. "Sorry, habit," Shiraishi said as an explanation. "But please, don't let something so trivial bring you down. You'll figure all this out." Shiraishi gave Kirihara a thumbs up.

"You're weird," Kirihara said.

They walked in the light of the neon lampposts. Kirihara's worn-out sneakers drsgged against the cemented ground. It was a nice, peaceful night. The stars were all visible and the moon was half full. Shiraishi was glad to be sharing the night with someone else, even if that someone happened to be a rather angry teenager. Shiraishi was sure everything would turn out fine. How could anyone stay upset on such a tranquil night? Surely it was fate that made them meet and allowed him to give Kirihara some words of encouragement.

"…Thanks," Kirihara murmured under his breath, looking up at Shiraishi for a split second. "For listening to me, I mean."

Shiraishi beamed. "Did I help?"

Kirihara shrugged. "Not really. I'm still in the same situation as before. But yeah, I guess talking did make me feel a bit better," he said. "B-But only by a little bit."

"I'm glad."

Kirihara stared at him again. Shiraishi returned the gaze with a widening smile. Kirihara looked away quickly, the blush on his cheeks turning an even deeper shade of crimson.

_Cute._

"If ever you need more help, I'm more than happy to assist," Shiraishi said. "Our meeting tonight must have been destiny, don't you agree?"

"Uh… sure?"

They walked together down another block. Halfway through, it became quite apparent to Shiraishi that Kirihara was fidgeting a lot. The boy kept sneaking glances at Shiraishi, more than before, and biting his bottom lip, like a young child trying hard to hold in a secret. Kirihara stopped his steps nearly to a stop, which was odd since Shiraishi knew Kirihara's house was still a bit further down the street.

"What is it?" Shiraishi asked, stopping in his tracks.

Kirihara scratched his head. A dark curl along his forehead stood up nearly at a vertical angle. "Y-You said you wanted to h-help me with this… I mean, figuring all t-this out, right?" Kirihara stuttered, his eyes extremely interested in what was on the sidewalk.

"Yes, I would be glad to help, Kirihara-chan."

Kirihara wiped his palms on his shirt. "W-Well… it's hard to f-figure all this out, w-without any experience." Kirihara had to stop to take a shaky breath. "I-I mean, I'm not asking for anything m-major… and if you're fine with it, then maybe something s-small, like a… a…"

Shiraishi realized early on which direction this was heading into, but still he was impressed when Kirihara managed to stammer it out all by himself.

"…A k-k-k…iss…?" Kirihara's voice broke into a squeak at the end.

Shiraishi had to hold in his laughter. "Kirihara-chan, first you need to be able to look at me before you ask for such things."

Kirihara's eyes were huge green orbs, Shiraishi discovered. Like this, Kirihara resembled a whimpering puppy more than anything. And honestly, how could he possible say no to such a cute, candid face?

"That's better," said Shiraishi, leaning in. "I like to see the face of the person I'm kissing."

"W-Wait!" Kirihara jolted back, surprised by the abruptness of it all. "Are you seriously gonna do this?"

Shiraishi cocked his head. "Yes. You did just ask me. Very nicely, I might add."

"Oh… uh, yeah, okay…" Kirihara didn't appear to know how to respond properly. "Y-You're really weird. But, yeah… I guess we can." He nodded seriously, as if giving the okay for Shiraishi to progress once more.

Amused, Shiraishi slanted forward. When he was close enough to feel Kirihara's frantic breathing, Kirihara closed his eyes, turning his head away.

Shiraishi did laugh a bit this time. "Are you sure you're ready?"

"I-I'm sorry…" Kirihara was sweating a bit. He inched one eye open. "Just hurry up and do it fast."

Shiraishi nudged their noses together. Kirihara appeared to completely stop breathing. Then Shiraishi thought he ought to stop teasing the poor boy, so he kissed him. It wasn't anything spectacular; only a press of his lips to Kirihara's chapped ones for a few long seconds. Shiraishi pulled back out of concern that Kirihara would pass out if he held in his breath any longer.

"There, now you really should be going home. It's very late," Shiraishi said.

"Wait… that's it?"

"What were you expecting exactly?"

Kirihara scuffled his heels against the concrete. "N-Nothing."

"Now come on, I'll walk you the rest of the way home. Your house is in this direction if I remember correctly," Shiraishi said.

"No!" Kirihara looked horrified. "I can walk home alone. I'll get grounded for a whole year this time if mom sees me with you again!"

"Kirihara-chan, we've been through this. I can't simply let a cute boy like you wander the streets alone. If something were to happen, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself." He reached for Kirihara but the boy stepped back, dodging Shiraishi's hand.

"Come on, it's only like one street down!" Kirihara whined.

"Kirihara-chan, don't be difficult-"

"I'll tell everyone you kissed me!" Kirihara exclaimed.

Shiraishi froze.

Kirihara smirked triumphantly. "That's right, I'll tell everyone I know how some shady stripper kissed me."

"Ah… please don't do that," Shiraishi said. That… would probably get him fired. Not to mention the possibility of getting arrested. And Shiraishi didn't feel like spending a few nights in jail… again. Only this time the arrest would be for something more serious than indecent public exposure. Shiraishi could only briefly wonder if Kirihara actually meant such a mean threat.

Shiraishi hardly believed it at all. Kirihara, the cute, stubborn airhead was actually...

"I won't say anything," said Kirihara, his grin cocky. "I'll be walking home alone. Of course, if I were to return to the Imperial Palace… I don't want to be kicked out again. I'm sure you can let me in again, right?"

_... blackmailing _him.

This sweet boy who had just acted so confused and blushed at the thought of a tiny kiss was seriously threatening him, as if Shiraishi had not just agreed to give Kirihara a favour. It took a while for it to get through to Shiraishi's head. By then, Kirihara was walking away, waving back in a carefree manner.

Shiraishi sighed. This was quite the pickle he had gotten himself in. He normally thought of himself as vigilant. Instead, Shiraishi now thought the word gullible must be written all over his forehead.

Nonetheless, Shiraishi followed Kirihara for the last few blocks, staying back far enough so Kirihara wouldn't spot him easily, but near enough to make sure he would be able to run to Kirihara should something happen.

Kirihara made it home safely. Shiraishi was left outside feeling rather bitter at his unfortunate predicament.

This was definitely going to block his ecstasy.

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><p><strong>~o~o~o~<strong>


	19. Chapter 19

**Title: The Imperial Palace Chapter 19**

**Setting: Strip Club AU.**

**Rating: M for _you know why_**

**Pairing: Alpha Pair**

**Warnings: Uncreative content, OOC-ness, I can't just let Sanada and Yukimura be happy, Yanagi Alert, oups no strip club in this chapter, etc.**

**Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis is not mine.**

**~o~o~o~**

* * *

><p>Yukimura couldn't quite help the smile playing at his lips when he got off the phone with Atobe. He knew he shouldn't be smiling, not with how tired Atobe sounded, not with the news of the excessive damage Oshitari had inflicted upon the Imperial Palace, and certainly not after knowing he wouldn't be getting tips for yet another day. Truly, it wasn't a happy situation at all.<p>

However, it did mean he had the night off.

Yukimura immediately knew where he would be going that evening. Yukimura did see Sanada every night during work, but it had been a while since they had spent time together outside of work boundaries. Sanada was always the one going to the strip club too, therefore Yukimura was certain Sanada wouldn't mind if Yukimura was the one to go see him for a change.

As he took a shower Yukimura hummed a happy tune, only realizing how giddy he felt when he stepped out of the washroom wrapped in a towel. He stopped immediately and had to remind himself that his foreign feeling was okay. It wasn't odd to feel happy at the thought of seeing your… _lover_.

He dressed casually, letting his semi-dry hair tumble around his chin. He didn't put much thought into what he was wearing; part of him was hoping his clothes wouldn't stay on the whole night. He rushed out of his apartment like that, unable to stop himself from speed walking to his destination.

The university campus was buzzing with activity and laughing students. Sanada lived on the edge of the campus in a grey building. Inside were creaky stairs leading the way up numerous floors. On his way to the fifth floor, Yukimura passed other students and some open doors that were booming with loud music. Yukimura wondered if Sanada ever went to these campus parties or get-togethers with friends. Sanada didn't seem like the social type. Then again, Sanada didn't seem like the type to go to strip clubs either.

He reached the fifth floor and knocked on Sanada's door, almost bouncing in his eagerness. Unfortunately, the person who answered was not Sanada.

"Can I help you?" the young man asked, his eyes remaining closed yet somehow still leering enough to make Yukimura feel uneasy. Yanagi was this young man's name, if Yukimura recalled correctly, and he was Sanada only roommate.

"Oh, hello. I'm here to-"

"'See Sanada'," Yanagi interrupted, "...is what you were going to say."

"...Yes. Is he here?" Yukimura asked. Already his plans for the night were crumbling, especially if the roommate was here.

"He's in his room." Yanagi surveyed him. "Studying," he added.

"May I come in?" Yukimura asked, because Yanagi didn't look ready to invite him in.

"I suppose."

Somehow, Yukimura didn't think Yanagi liked him very much.

Yanagi sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by a mountain of books. The television wasn't on, nor did Yanagi have any earphones to listen to music. Yukimura only hoped Yanagi was the type with strong concentration.

The door to Sanada's bedroom opened. "Who was at the door, Renji?" Sanada asked and froze when he saw Yukimura. "Oh… hi."

A smile curved onto Yukimura's face. "Hello to you too. I'm not here at a bad time, am I?" Yukimura couldn't help the smile nor the warmth that spend through him at the sight of Sanada. With messy hair, tired eyes, and baggy pajamas, Sanada looked like he hadn't left his room all day. This would be a nice change of pace for him.

"N-No, not at all," said Sanada. Yanagi snorted and Sanada shot him a quick look. "Please, come in."

Sanada's room was the same as always; a dresser in the corner, a single-person bed to the side and a desk holding multiple open books. It was small, plain, and frankly rather boring to look at, but it was neat and very much like Sanada. Besides ugly beige curtains and a calendar, the walls were bare

"Is something the matter?" Sanada asked, shutting the door behind him. "I was about to go to the Imperial Palace in a few hours. I'm not presentable yet…"

"Can't I visit you once in a while?" Yukimura said, smile playing at his lips.

"Of course, but-" Sanada didn't get the chance to finish his sentence. Yukimura shoved Sanada against the desk and kissed his lips, lingering for seconds longer than he had intended. Sanada sighed into his mouth.

"No need to go tonight. I have the evening off. Apparently Oshitari did a lot more damage than we initially thought and Atobe needs to hire new bartenders. The club's closed tonight," Yukimura said, seating himself on Sanada's bed. "My night is now in your hands."

He heard Sanada's nervous swallow. "Renji's studying in the next room," Sanada whispered.

Yukimura made a thoughtful noise. He honestly didn't care about the roommate, but Sanada obviously minded. "The way I see it is, we can either try not to make any noise, or we go have fun somewhere else." Yukimura shrugged. "But frankly, I find hotels to be rather tacky. So what will it be?"

Yukimura swung his legs off the side of the bed, playfully awaiting an answer. Sanada chewed on his lip, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"What's the matter?" Yukimura asked when Sanada was silent for a whole minute.

"Nothing," Sanada said quickly. "I was just wondering why those were the only options…"

"What do you mean?"

"We don't have to go to a hotel," Sanada said hesitantly. "I thought maybe we could go to your place...?"

"No." Yukimura's tone made it very clear that this was not up for debate. Sanada had never seen Yukimura's home, and nor was he going to if Yukimura had anything to say about it. His home was his sanctuary and Sanada was...

Well, Yukimura wasn't exactly sure what Sanada was. _A lover,_ he guessed. _For now_. He knew he liked Sanada a lot, enough to miss him when they had separated a few weeks back, but Yukimura didn't like thinking too hard about the future.

Sanada's face displayed heavy disappointment. "I see," Sanada murmured. "We could go elsewhere. We haven't gone on a real date since… a while."

"You come see me at the club every day," Yukimura pointed out.

"But it's not the same," Sanada said, grimacing. "We could go to dinner, or do an activity together. I don't know what sort of things you like, but we can figure something out."

Sanada's face fell when Yukimura looked away.

"If you're not in the mood to sleep with me, then just say so. You don't have to find excuses," Yukimura said.

"I'm just a bit tired today," Sanada said with a heavy sigh. He looked tired too, with the circles under his eyes and stubble on his chin.

Now Yukimura felt a bit ridiculous for having come all this way unannounced. He knew he shouldn't blame Sanada. Sanada was usually very good at indulging him and never refused anything Yukimura asked of him. For Sanada to say no meant he really must be quite exhausted. However, all this meant most of his plans for the night wouldn't be happening and Yukimura couldn't help but feel rather bitter about it.

"No, it's fine," Yukimura said. "We can take it easy tonight, I suppose. A date is not necessary either."

Sanada opened his mouth and closed it again. He looked at the floor and muttered, "Sorry."

Yukimura nearly cringed. Hearing Sanada apologize for ridiculous things that weren't even his fault always made a pang of guilt shoot through him. "Don't say that. Come here," Yukimura said, patting the covers next to him. Sanada hesitated for a second. "Don't worry, I won't do anything you won't like."

Sanada went to the bed, sinking down onto the mattress next to Yukimura. Yukimura pushed him into a lying down position, letting Sanada relax along the length of the small bed. Yukimura leaned over him, kissing him gently on the lips and brushing his cheek with the tips of his fingers. Yukimura pushed Sanada's hair back, seeing the bags under his eyes more clearly.

"Do you have trouble sleeping?" Yukimura asked. "You shouldn't stay up late if you're tired."

"Ah, no," Sanada said, touching Yukimura's hip. "I like visiting you at the club."

Yukimura nipped at Sanada's lips, drawing his mouth along Sanada's in slow sensual patterns until Sanada sighed and closed his eyes. "Let me do the work today then," Yukimura said.

Sanada cracked an eye open when he felt Yukimura's hands grabbing at the hem of his pants. Sanada looked ready to object but seemed too tired to do anything. Sanada didn't even lift his hips to help Yukimura tug to material lower.

Yukimura didn't let it deter him; he pushed Sanada's pants down just enough to pull out his member. Yukimura then undid his own buttons, freeing his own dick and maneuvering himself until he sat in just the right position on top of Sanada's thighs. Sanada started, a low noise coming from his throat when Yukimura pressed their hips together. Yukimura was already hard, eagerly rubbing his throbbing flesh against Sanada's limp one. Sanada lifted his hand and Yukimura shrugged it away.

"No, let me," Yukimura said and set about finding a rhythm.

Yukimura's hands held both their cocks together, rubbing up and down, his hips straining forward and back. He smiled when he felt Sanada harden, seeing Sanada's lips part to release heavy breaths.

It wasn't _exactly_ what Yukimura had expected coming here for, but he supposed it wasn't a bad alternative. Yukimura stared at Sanada's cock and spread his thumb along the tip. It was wet, sticking to his finger when he pulled it back. Sanada's member stood thick and dark, looking even larger chaffing against Yukimura's paler one. Yukimura bit his lip, wishing he could just put it inside him. He wanted the hard, hot stretch of it filling him, reaching in deep to places even his fingers couldn't touch. The fantasy alone had him releasing a moan.

Sanada's hips rotated in tune with Yukimura's hand. Sanada panted, his eyes shut tight and his hands gripping the covers so hard his knuckles turned white. Yukimura squeezed tighter, gasping as the friction became nearly unbearable.

Sanada really was tired because his stamina didn't last long. Sanada grunted in warning before spilling all over Yukimura's hand. The slickness facilitated the process; Yukimura's continued jerking fast, still squeezing tighter and tighter. The over-stimulation had Sanada cringing until finally Yukimura too tumbled over the edge, letting his seed drip onto Sanada's stomach. "_Ah_…" Yukimura whispered, shivering.

Yukimura cleaned up with the tissues lying next to Sanada's bed. It was only after he was done dabbing up his ejaculate from Sanada's stomach that he realized Sanada was lying limp on the bed, his eyes closed and his breathing even.

_Cute_, Yukimura thought fondly, staring right into Sanada's sleeping face.

He probably ought to take his leave. It was a shame the night hadn't been long but Yukimura supposed there would be other times to do better.

Right as Yukimura was buttoning up his pants, Sanada's eyes fluttered. "Yuki... mura…?" Sanada asked, sounding rather confused.

"Shh, sleep. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Yukimura said.

Sanada reached up slowly, his fingers touching the back of Yukimura's hand. "Stay?" he asked.

Yukimura swallowed thickly. "Your bed is too small."

"Please."

Yukimura chewed the inside of his cheek. He really should go home and let Sanada sleep. But his apartment and bed were cold and far away while Sanada was here, warm and inviting. Damn it.

"Okay," Yukimura breathed. "Just this once."

He slid into Sanada's arms, inserting his head under Sanada's chin. Sanada was so warm and his chest was pleasingly solid against Yukimura's body. Sanada had fallen back asleep by the time Yukimura tugged the covers over both of them. Yukimura closed his eyes too, listening to Sanada's steady breathing, and before he knew it he was joining Sanada in the land of dreams.

* * *

><p><strong>~o~o~o~<strong>

* * *

><p>Yukimura's awakening was far less pleasant than falling asleep had been.<p>

Someone was knocking on a door in a manner that was loud and insistent. Yukimura frowned, digging his face deeper into Sanada's chest. No, he didn't want to move, not yet. Yukimura was distinctly aware that he was too hot, his skin sweaty and sticky, but still the thought of getting up was the last thing on his mind.

But still the knocking persisted. Sanada too began shifting awake.

When the knocking stopped, it was only because Sanada's roommate had decided to enter the room.

"I do apologize for waking you both up," Yanagi said from the doorway. "But Genichirou, I do believe your exam is in half an hour and I don't think you want to miss it."

Sanada bolted upright so fast Yukimura nearly slid off the bed.

"The exam!" Sanada exclaimed and practically threw himself off the bed, covers and all. Yukimura groaned, curling up into a ball and trying to escape wakefulness. He could hear Sanada scrambling around like a madman, opening drawers and pulling out clothes. Sanada hopped around, putting on his socks backwards and stuffing books into a dirty old backpack. Sanada didn't even comb his hair or take a trip to the washroom; he just grabbed his bag and put on his shoes, ready to go.

Yukimura squinted at him, grabbing the covers from the floor and curling back up inside them.

"S-Sorry, Yukimura, but I have to—"

"'S fine," Yukimura mumbled. He wasn't even sure if Sanada heard him because Sanada left before Yukimura was even done answering. The door shut closed behind him, leaving Yukimura in peaceful silence. Yukimura didn't know how early it was, but it definitely felt too early to get up.

He must have fallen back asleep for a while because when Yukimura awoke there was light coming in through the small window. Yukimura checked his phone. It said it was almost noon.

Yukimura yawned, stretching and grimacing at how the lumpy mattress had left him feeling stiff. How did Sanada manage to sleep on this thing night after night anyways? Yukimura's clothes were wrinkled and Yukimura really wished he had spares. Yukimura would've raided Sanada's closet, but he didn't think Sanada's clothes would fit him well.

Yukimura peeked outside the bedroom door. He didn't find Sanada, but Yanagi was still there, studying in the exact same chair as the previous night. Yanagi paused, looking straight at him.

Yukimura shifted his weight to his other foot. "Uh… I'm just going to use the washroom," Yukimura explained. Yanagi nodded towards a door at the end of the tiny hallway. "Yeah, thanks," Yukimura said even if he already knew where the bathroom was.

As he washed his face, Yukimura contemplated whether he ought to head home or stay and wait for Sanada to return. Last night hardly felt like enough; they had barely spent an hour together before falling asleep. But Yukimura did have to work tonight…

He supposed he could wait a bit and leave if Sanada didn't soon return. Yukimura was certain Sanada would understand either way.

Yanagi stared at him again when Yukimura exited the washroom. Yukimura immediately re-entered Sanada's bedroom, unwilling to socialize with Yanagi. Plus, the way Yanagi looked at him with closed eyes was rather creepy.

However, barricading himself in Sanada's bedroom hardly improved anything because Yukimura soon learned that Sanada's room was extremely boring. The room was tiny and as bland as a bowl of porridge. The shelves held nothing but big heavy academic texts, the closet had black and grey clothes all neatly folded, and the desk was a mess of papers and pens. There was nothing of interest, not even a hidden diary or a dirty magazine under the mattress.

Yukimura picked through the papers on Sanada's desk for a lack of better things to do. He found scribbled notes, and typed assignments, some of them with grades on them. Yukimura frowned at those last ones because some grades were definitely not very good.

A knock on the door interrupted Yukimura's thoughts. Yukimura dropped the paper he had been holding and cracked the door open.

"There is a 98.7% chance you need nourishment," Yanagi said. "I was planning on preparing omurice."

"Oh." Yukimura blinked in surprise. "Yeah. I'll help you."

And so Yukimura ended up chopping onions and peppers as Yanagi stood next to him, mixing eggs and simmering bits of chicken. Yanagi didn't speak to him unless it was to give Yukimura cooking instructions. Yukimura bit his tongue but he didn't think he could take the silence for much longer.

"Uh, have you known Sanada for long?" Yukimura asked as he handed Yanagi the bowl with all the chopped veggies.

"For approximately eleven years, three months and twenty days," Yanagi replied.

"That's good." Yukimura paused, wiping his hands on the towel. "I guess you are both very good friends. So, uh… what was Sanada like when he was younger?"

"Frighteningly similar to how he is now. Though he does indulge in pleasantries more numerously when he is around you," Yanagi said. "Genichirou hardly ever sleeps in, yet he does so with you sharing his bed. It's interesting data."

They watched the eggs fry. Yanagi inserted the rice mixed with the vegetables and chicken. It sizzled.

"It's lucky you woke him up, huh?" Yukimura said. "That exam sounds important."

"Yes, it is," Yanagi said. "Although I don't approve of his study habits and lack of time management skills as of late, I do wish him luck. Judging by his current intellectual capacity and study time, he has a 47% chance of passing the exam."

"Why so low?" Yukimura asked, concerned. He thought back to those papers lying around Sanada's desk with the bad grades and remembered how exhausted Sanada was last night. "I'm sure Sanada's prepared. I mean, obviously he studies a lot. He was very tired from studying yesterday."

Yanagi opened his eyes and gave him a _look. _

"Now's hardly the time for you to be concerned," Yanagi said. "It's a bit too late for that."

"What do you mean?"

"Genichirou isn't tired because he studies too much," Yanagi said. "He's tired because he spends every night at a strip club to see you."

Yukimura stepped back, reeling like he had just been slapped in the face.

"I don't tell him to come see me every night," Yukimura said. "Sanada insists on coming. I mean, I knew he was in school, but he never said… he never told me he was having trouble..."

_That bastard_, Yukimura thought. _Of course_ Sanada had been coming to see him every night! First because Sanada had been desperate to get Yukimura back, and now because Sanada was afraid of losing him again. Damn it, how could he have been so _blind_? Obviously staying up all night would negatively affect Sanada's day performance! Yukimura felt like such an idiot, coupled with a burning frustration because Sanada had never mentioned having any problems before.

"I do believe Genichirou goes to the club on his own free will, however I do not think you discourage him from going either," Yanagi said. "He hardly studies lately."

"He never told me he was having problems," Yukimura said. His voice sounded hollow to his own ears. _Sanada_ had been the one to insist they give this relationship another shot. _Sanada_ always listened to Yukimura's problems. Sanada always seemed trustworthy… yet here he was not telling Yukimura that he was failing classes because he spent so much time at a strip club!

"I never expected Sanada to tell you," Yanagi said nonchalantly. He slid the prepared food onto two plates."He didn't tell me either. Genichirou is the type to bear burdens in silence."

"But _still_," Yukimura said, scowling. "If he can't trust me with such a simple thing, then why did he insist on staying with me at all?"

"He treads on thin ice with you and he knows it," Yanagi said. "It's something you'll have to take up with him."

"Oh, I will," Yukimura affirmed.

They ate the omurice together. Under other circumstances it would've tasted better, but Yukimura was too furious to focus on the food in his mouth. Did Sanada honestly think he could hide everything and suffer in silence? If Yanagi hadn't told him then things might have turned out much worse. Just thinking about how tired Sanada had been yesterday now made Yukimura's blood boil.

It was the middle of the afternoon when Sanada returned. Sanada looked gaunt, laying his bag next to the door and looking like he was carrying a thousand tons on his shoulders. Yukimura and Yanagi both paused in the midst of their conversation to look at Sanada.

"Yukimura?" Sanada said, seeing the bluenette seated opposite of Yanagi. "I thought you'd have gone home by now. Ah, I'm happy to see you regardless."

"That's nice," Yukimura said. "How did your exam go, Sanada?"

"It went… fine," Sanada said with a hint of hesitation. That little pause gave it all away, affirming all that Yanagi had said.

"That's good. Tell me, are you planning on coming to the club tonight?" Yukimura asked.

"Of course!" Sanada said.

The room seemed to darken instantly. Yukimura glared, his entire being radiating anger and coldness. Sanada gulped.

"Y-Yukimura, is something wrong?"

"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling in school?" Yukimura demanded, crossing his arms.

Sanada's eyes widened with understanding. He looked over to Yanagi. "Renji, what did you tell him?"

"_Renji _didn't tell me anything," Yukimura lied, pointing an accusatory finger at Sanada. "Did you think I wouldn't notice how tired you were? Did you think I wouldn't see the papers full of failed grades on your desk? Do you think I'm a complete idiot, Sanada?"

"No, no, Yukimura, I didn't want to worry you-"

Yukimura scoffed. "You're an idiot. This is about your future. University is far more important than going to a goddamn strip club every night. What are you going to do if you fail?"

Sanada opened his mouth and shut it again. He looked down at the floor, like a kid who had gotten caught doing something he shouldn't have.

Yukimura rose from his seat. "Renji, thank you for the delicious lunch. Your company was very enjoyable."

"Come back anytime," Yanagi replied with a smile.

"Keep an eye on this troublesome one for me, will you?" Yukimura said, pointing again to Sanada. "Make sure he's not doing unnecessary things."

"Of course."

"Yukimura…" Sanada began.

"Sanada," Yukimura said, "you are hereby prohibited from stepping foot inside the Imperial Palace until your grades improve."

"But-"

"No buts. If I see you there, I'll have security throw you out."

"But I-"

"I'm _serious_, Sanada," Yukimura snapped. Sanada flinched, frowning at the ground. "You can't keep on doing this. Now go to bed and rest." Yukimura approached Sanada, who was now looking like a pitiful puppy. Yukimura felt almost sorry for him.

_Almost._

"C-Can I at least call you?" Sanada asked quietly.

Yukimura exhaled. "Fine," he permitted. "But no dates. Not until you get those grades back up."

Sanada looked absolutely miserable. Yukimura couldn't blame him. First his school wasn't going well and now here Yukimura was yelling at him. Even if it was Sanada's own fault, Yukimura took pity on him for a second and reached up to press a light kiss on his lips.

"I know you'll be back on track before long. And the next time you come visit me, I'll give you a lap dance you won't ever forget." Yukimura smiled and exited out the door, waving back over his shoulder. "Take care, Sanada."

* * *

><p><strong>~o~o~o~<strong>


End file.
